Mr. Jefferson’s eyes widened as he anxiously loosened the tie around his neck. He felt as if his heart was dropping thousands of feet as he read the appalling news that awaited him in the letter. “Hello Mrs. Jefferson, we are sending this letter specifically to you as per your request regarding the test results. We are sorry to say that the results came back positive for demodicosis. Symptoms include turning blue of the tongue, hair loss, and frequent chills that would explain why he would often curl up in a fetal position near the stove. Keep him happy during his last week of life. We are sorry for your loss.”
Mr. Jefferson had just gone to get a check-up at the doctor’s office a couple days ago since he had a cold for a while that wasn’t going away, but never had he thought he would hear that statement. “Who will take care of my family when I am gone?! What will my wife and kids think? I don’t have any money to leave them!” he cried. Mr. Jefferson regretted all the times when he never told his wife how beautiful she looked in her flowy, lilac dress she rarely wore, or how beautifully his daughter played “Ode to Joy” on her violin. He never had enough time to even show his son how to get his curveball just right before his first baseball game. “I have to leave something for them”, he said in utter despair, and after several hours had passed he had finally come to a decision. He was going to sell his story to the press.
Mr. Jefferson heard one successful story could earn at least $7,000! He scurried down to the newspaper office, his short legs desperately trying to keep up with his circular, heavy upper body. Once he got there, he demanded to speak with the publisher and explained his unfortunate circumstances. “I can see it now”, said the publisher, “”Man with only one week to live worries about his family instead of himself.” What an interesting headline that would make. You do know that if you don’t die within a week you could be arrested for lying to this newspaper company, right?” the publisher asked. “Yes, yes I know! Trust me, publish my story and it will be a hit!” exclaimed Mr. Jefferson. And so the publisher agreed the story will be published as tomorrow’s headline.
“Honey what on earth is this talk of you dying?!” exclaimed Mrs. Jefferson as she held the crumbled up newspaper in her hands. “It’s true. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but here”, Mr. Jefferson pulled out the letter from his royal blue, satin robe and handed it to her. Puzzled, she opened the letter and began reading.“Hahahaha!” she cracked up laughing, her smile so wide it’s as if it could stretch off the side of her face. However, Mr. Jefferson’s face started to swell with anger. “I haven’t even died yet and you’re ready to be parading at my funeral, aren’t you?!” his voice booming so loud he made the house tremble. “Honey, these are Bruno’s test results! The poor dog has been sick a couple of days now. I told the vet to send the results specifically to me, so if the news wasn’t good you wouldn’t be too devastated. Well look at how that turned out--all this nonsense about you dying!” said Mrs. Jefferson. Relieved, Mr. Jefferson picked up his wife and spun her around in the air, her shiny, golden hair twirling with her. However, he then remembered he could be arrested for claiming a false story to the press. What would he say when a week has passed by and he is still alive and well? “Oh well”, he thought. He was with his family and that was all that mattered. Not the press and neither the money, but the fact that he can live life another minute longer with the most beautiful people that made up his world--his family.