Take your pick...
You can leave this world in your sleep...like having a dream of warm milk and snuggling under the covers.
OR
You can go out on the kitchen floor face down in a pool of tears and blood from your ears...stone deaf, your last earthly memory a silent kaleidoscopic vision of floor tiles and nausea.
I bring all this up 'cause Martha bought a Carbon-monoxide detector sometime last week.
First I knew of it was yesterday when I pulled on to our street a couple of miles from the house...I could hear a faint but persistent whirring sound. With every turn of the wheels it got louder until it was a piercing shriek...by the time I pulled into our drive the windshield was wobbling.
I cut the car off...and sat, surrounded by throbbing glass, trying to gather myself to get out of the car. The shriek was so loud that the only other sound I could hear was the hairs in my inner ear snapping like pines in a tornado.
I had to get out of the car...all I could think was that if we're under a nuclear attack I don't want my atoms intimately mingled with the volvo's.
At that point all I knew was that the sound had gotten louder. I didn't know where it was comin' from...but I found out when I opened the front door. There was a burst of pure light and then the silence of the void...the shriek had taken on a physical form morphing into a vision of Jeff Davis sittin' in a Mies' chair with my Great Great Great Grandson on his lap.
I had walked into the violent sound of time and space being ripped apart.
To be continued...
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