Sick day

ME:        ((Coughing)) Silver, come to my side.

SILVER: Oh, come on. Not again.

ME:        Boy, my time on the earth grows short. The infection inside me ((Coughing)) grows strong.

SILVER: It’s a cold. You have a cold.

ME:        I’m trying to hang on, yet shadows cause the room to grow dim.

SILVER: I know. It’s night. It gets dark at night.

ME:        Be well Silver. I hope you remember me fondly. ((Sniffling)) As a good person. A kindred spirit.

SILVER: Do you even know what “kindred” means?

ME:        Yes. ….. It’s that chocolate egg thing, right.

(Silver gives me a 15-second long look of shock and disappointment)

SILVER: Pop, I’m sorry that you’re sick. But I have to go out for my walk. Now please get off the couch, stop writing your will and get my leash.

ME:        Okay but first… ((Coughing and reaching out with one hand) Grandma? Grandpa? Is that you?

SILVER: Forget it. I’ll walk myself.

ME:        Walk towards the light? Whatever you say, Mr. Bowie.