So this man-eating squirrel attacked me while I was rooting around in his nut stash (whatever THAT means) the other day. He came at me squealing like a banshee and by merely trying to defend myself, I accidentally smashed him over the head with my Pillowcase O’ Pennies. As hard as I could.
Then I felt horribly guilty about it and decided that since he was only trying to protect what was rightfully his, I should try to resuscitate him. That’s when I remembered a little something called CPR.
I put my ear to his chest and couldn’t detect a heartbeat. Or breathing. He wasn’t breathing either. So I pinched his nose - at least I think it was his nose - and blew into his mouth. His little chest puffed up and air squeaked out of his little mouth.
I put two fingers together from each hand and began pressing down on his little chest. Which brings me to the real reason I brought you here today.
Did you know that when you are performing CPR on a person, it needs to be within a range of a certain number of beats per minute? Like 100 beats per minute? Right about now you’re probably asking, “How on God’s green earth am I going to be able to know what 100 beats per minute is?”
Funny you should ask. Because I recently learned EXACTLY how.
Apparently, the typical human being can automatically remember a song at the correct original tempo, even if he can’t carry a tune. So all you have to do is sing a song while your pushing rhythmically down on someone’s chest.
And what song can you sing that is exactly 100 beats per minute while you’re frantically trying to save the life of a person, be he man or squirrel?
Staying Alive. By The Bee Gees. No I’m not kidding. Ask any EMT (e.g. the lady behind Dispatches from the Outpost):
♫♫♫Well you can tell by the way I use my walk,
I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk.
Music loud and women warm.
I’ve been kicked around since I was born…♫♫♫
Of course, if you have an aversion to the The Bee Gees, or in the case of a stupid man-eating squirrel whose life you’d just as soon care less about except that now the neighbors have come out to see what all the squealing was about and now you have to feign heroism for the crowd that has gathered - the bleeding heart squirrel lovers…well, you have an alternative song to sing.
Another One Bites The Dust. By Queen. Again - not kidding:
♫♫♫Well, another one’s gone and another one’s gone.
Another one bites the dust.
Hey, I’m gonna get you too
Another one bites the dust…♫♫♫
And while mourners set up a shrine of flowers and streamers and memory books on your front lawn, they will claim that at least you tried. They will not know that it was pointless restarting his heart because of his brain dislocation from the Pillowcase O’ Pennies. They will say that there was nothing you could do.
And then you can go sneak back later and raid his nut stash.
I want to thank Joanna of The Fifty Factor for helping spread the gospel that is Coconut Queen. She put a badge in her sidebar and everything! She’s currently in the middle of a nail-biting saga about her husband. That she may have married twice, I don’t know, because she’s only released the 2nd of 3 chapters so far and I’m on the edge of my seat!!!!
(Coconut Queen graphic courtesy of iWin.com)
I would also like to thank Jo over at Diary of a Sad Housewife for the lovely and esteemed Splish Splash Award:
