COMA BOB

                                   Coma Bob and the Cosmic Donut

                 "Well, Coma Bob," soft lips caressed ear, "next time maybe, just maybeee you might listen to me."

                Arc of lightning charred brain.  Acrid ash, pile of once gray matter, puffed remnant smoke.  Bitter sweet sap gagged deep the back of his throat.  From toes to nose Bob spasmed, tried to wretch. Nothing came up.  Nothing.  He struggled to pull out tube from nose, pull out the IV from vein, but arms were tethered. "Where?" he choked out. "What?" he begged.  And then past worse the question bled, "Who am I?" he tried to wretch again.

                "Well, coma Bob," soft lips echo caressed ear, "next time maybe, just maybeee you might listen to me."

                Strangely soothing, that sweet reverberating I told you so, slowed Bob's spinning brain.  His eyes opened to halo of light entangled in the tangled strawberry blond hair of the angel there.  A chiding nightingale, whose melody sang gentle, yet harsh, "Likely as not a smidge of a tad is not a lot, yet comeupance bought."

                "Likely as not a smidge of a tad is not a lot, never hurt nobody," Bob repeated his spin on the phrase that he had uttered only, when was it, just before stuffing nother maple glazed donut past already maple glazed lips.  His memory rippled aftershock.  That tangled hair angel seemed bit more familiar there.

                That angel glared down at him, chastened with sweet almost song, "Yes Bobby, your name is Bobby, Bobby Lee the donut pig, who almost grew wings and flew from Cosmic Donut Land right into Bobby Lee cemetery.

                "Fraulein Heather?" Bob squirmed under the sheets, mustered sideways grin. "I should a knowed.  Nobody bites butt better than my fraulein."

                "That's Frau Heather to you.  Do not call me girlfriend.  I am your loving wife.  Got it!" One miffed, yet relieved, hefty Frau Heather with cherry pursed lips puffed at stray strand of hair.

                "But you are my best friend," Bob lathered on the sweet cream butter.

                "Sometimes I want to pinch your head off, Bobby Lee," Heather sniffled. "and the next time you pig out on three baker's dozen maple glazed donuts in a row and wash it down with that third chocolate malt, I will, I swear I will." Water fall trickled down cheeks of Heather.

                "Now, now Heath, a smidge of a tad ain't all that bad.  Just cause I got ate up in the sugar feeding frenzy don't mean I'll eat over a near baker's dozen next time." Bob semi-promised.

                "Near baker's dozen?" Heather wiped tears with back of wrist before the growl revved up. "Bobby Lee, you do that, and you die on me, I swear I will kill you!"

                "You are a hoot, Heather," the not so long ago in coma Bob smirked. "In fact from now on I'm calling you Hoot Heather."

                "Hoot Heather? I may just kill you now." Heather arched left eyebrow, nodded, embraced  strangulation urge. "You do know your arms are still tethered." Heather crazy smiled that too toothy smile, fang punctuated.  She reached over, scooted call button a fraction of a tad not near enough for Bob fingers to tap.  She climbed aboard bed, straddled him.  Her hands stood on finger tips on his wrists.  They began a walkin', walkin' up his forearms, fingernails leaving indentation trail.

                And Hoot Heather did sing, "La la la, la la tee da, your Cosmic Donut Land is way out of hand..."

                "Where's the cheese, extra sugar please." Bob gasped, "Wha wha wha, what was that?"

                 "Would you like pizza with that cheese, coffee with that sugar?" Heather fingers sashayed past Bobby Lee elbow pits.

                "Sweet Frau Heather, you be a scarin' me." Bob tried kicking free, but his legs were tethered too.

                "La la la, la la tee da, coma Bob dream awash in waves of macchiato cream, lapping tan sugar beaches of Cosmic Donut Land... capital city Sugar Topia, where there is no mopia... Cosmic, O' Cosmic Donut Land to thee we scream more sugar, heavy on that sap of maple... C. D. Land where no donut tis bland... O' Cosmic, O' Cosmic Donut Land..." Icy Heather eyes blew blue cool.  Her fingers danced past Bobby Lee shoulders, wrapped around his neck.

                "That tickle... a-eck-eck-eck... Hea...yo...chockin-gggg...mm..." Bobby Lee sugar and cream brain spiraled down drain.

                "One boa constrictor hug for one rat neck!" Heather squeezed.

                Mind spinning near eternal ether of dream... Bob heard familiar echo...

                "Well coma Bob," soft lips caressed his ear, "next time maybe, just maybeee you might listen to me."

                Strangely soothing that sweet reverberating voice of I told you so slowed Coma Bob's  spinning brain.  His eyes opened to halo of light entangled in the tangled strawberry blond hair of the angel there.  A chiding nightingale whose melody sang gentle, yet harsh, "Likely as not a smidge of a tad is not a lot, yet comeupance bought."
         
                (Reader aside:  A pretentiously irritating The End???  NOPE, my editor wife and that Great Author of us all in His heavens commanded no leaving Bob in an endless loop of coma nightmare.)  So...

                "I love you, Heather," Bobby Lee coughed out ploy for self preservation.

                In fit of joy that angel there, that frau named Heather, halted the choking of Bobby Lee, and hugged and kissed, and squeezed and squished his face tight to ample bosom.

                Bobby Lee, tethered to bed and all, grasped at gasp, but alas, smothered in love, he breathed his last.

                (Reader aside: The End??? Over ruled again!  No killing old Coma Bob.  OK already!)

                Bobby Lee arms would have flailed to escape smothering embrace had his arms not been to bed tethered.  But he did manage to turn face aside, half whisper, half choke out, "You are smothering me," then sneak in air a while... while...

                "Now I do not want to sound too preachy," Heather preachily said, "because no one can nag you to good health, be it physical or spiritual.  But even a tad of a smidge of sin, leads to more sin, kinda like that one more than a baker's three dozen maple glazed donuts.  And like filling one grave with dirt from another grave, so is that maladjusted justification: a smidge of a tad is not a lot.  Too much is never enough, Bobby Lee.  The cult of sugar tis tasty poison.  For sweet is the drink of more,  till it grows to unforgiving sea, where awash in waves of sensation, feelings numb, beauty fades, and  love drowns.  So put down that baker's three dozen maple glazed donuts, shun that second and third  chocolate malt, sheath that cell phone, kiss a loved one, hug a neighbor.  But first in morning waking and last at rest of night, thank our Heavenly Father for your life, and even for me, your wife.  Love God and love one another as Jesus commanded.  For there is only one way out of the nightmare coma loop of sin... His name is Jesus..."

                Quote Bobby Lee, "There is more to life than sugar, please forgive your child, Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus."

                "Praise the LORD," quote the nightingale angel there.

                Last aside to the reader: Well I guess by now you know I did not like the character Coma Bob very much, probably because he reminds me of me.  For artistic flavor I really did want to leave him in an endless nightmare coma loop; over ruled. Then in rebellion I wanted to kill him off.  But unlike that self of so called humanity, our LORD would that all come to salvation, even those la-la-ing thru Cosmic Donut Land. God's love is pretty grand... John 3:16 KJV, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that who so ever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

                Like to read a whale of a true story?  The book of "Jonah" in the Bible is only three action packed pages long.  Tells of an obstinate, rebellious, self-righteous little man, who would rather be thrown from ship into raging sea than deliver ...God's only eight word message to save a wicked city... That is the book of Jonah in the B-I-B-L-E.