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Gravy Boats and Sheet Tents
Hudson
“Hudson, Hudson! Talk to me, Hudson!” Chad shouts. He’s on my right, pressing on my upper body with both hands, doing the world’s most ineffective chest compressions.
“Please … stop … that,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
I feel like I’m in a tunnel. The sounds around me aren’t quite getting to my ears. In the distance, I hear more voices, and when I look up, I see I’m surrounded by several members of the staff. Tina’s on the phone with a 911 operator explaining what happened, while Keenan and Chad look on. I’m drenched in sweat, my heart is beating insanely fast, my ankle is throbbing where I got bit, but even worse, I inexplicably have a horribly painful erection. Oh my God, am I some kind of weirdo who loves pain? I double over a little more, pulling my legs up to hide it.
I glance up and see Allie kneeling beside me to my left.
Her face is filled with worry. “What can I do to help you?”
“I’m fine. It’s really not that bad,” I say, closing my eyes for a second as I try to get a handle on the extreme pain. Keenan starts reading out instructions from his phone. “Wash with soap and water, administer an ice pack…”
“I’m on it!” Chad says, sprinting down the hall.
Tina leans over me, and in a low voice, says, “Err, Hudson, they want to know if you have an erection.”
“What?” Allie asks.
“An erection. It’s a symptom of a Brazilian wandering spider bite.”
Oh, thank Christ. This is normal. I nod, in too much pain to be embarrassed. “A raging one.”
“Yes, he says he’s got a raging erection.”
Dizziness comes over me and I start to feel like I’m about to lose consciousness. I look up at Allie, wondering if hers is the last face I’m going to ever see. And if it is, I’m okay with it. Not that I want to die, but if I have to, it’s so much better to be looking at her than, say, that Chad guy. “You’re very beautiful.”
“Thanks?” she says, looking totally confused.
Dammit, it’s because of the erection, isn’t it? “Allie, just in case I don’t make it, please call my brother, and my parents.” Oh, I’m gonna black out. “Tell them I love them, and that there was no raccoon. I’m the one who broke Nana’s gravy boat.”
“Okay, I’ll relay the message.” She nods, tears filling her eyes. “But don’t think like that. The ambulance is on the way. You’re going to make it.”
“I don’t think so. This feels like it might be it for me. I’ve never been in love before. God, you’re pretty…”
I feel her hand on my cheek and she’s saying something but her words disappear into the ether as everything goes black.
Instagram Reel: Hollywood Dish with Ferris Biltmore
The video starts up, showing Ferris in purple silk pajamas sitting in bed with the covers pulled up to his chest, staring gravely into the camera. “Bitches, I have terrible, terrible news. I heard it from my acupuncturist whose niece is married to a paramedic up in Silicon Valley. Apparently, at approximately eight forty-five a.m. today, a call was placed to 911 that Hudson Finch, my sweet, sweet Hudson… Oh, I can’t! I can’t even say it,” Ferris moans, laying his head back on the stack of fluffy white pillows propping him up. He opens his eyes. “Got bit by a terrifying, deadly spider.”
He nods. “Yes, I know. I know, people. I’m scared too. I am, but rest assured, I’ve got all my little birds out listening for updates, and I will be right here in bed keeping vigil and waiting for word on how our Hudson is doing. There will be no segments today. I’m too upset to do segments. Except, maybe one and I don’t have the strength to make a graphic. It’s to the hospital staff. It’s called: You Better Fucking Save His Life.”
Ferris stares into the camera looking forlorn. “You better fucking save his life, bitches. I’m serious. Because there are millions of fans around the world who will never, ever get over his death. We’re talking Diana-level of sorrow. We need him. We need him. And only him.” Ferris’s voice cracks as he goes on, “So you save him, okay? Do whatever you have to, but just save Hudson. Please?”
Shaking his head, Ferris says, “Shut it off. I can’t go on.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What’s that sound? That’s annoying. I didn’t think there would be annoying beeps in Heaven.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Am I in hell? Couldn’t be. I haven’t been that bad. I mean, I did knock the gravy boat off the counter and lied about it, but still. Hell?
Beep.
