My Anaconda

As I cleaned up the kitchen after our Christmas Eve dinner, I hummed along with the tune “Frosty the Snowman” and savored the last sip of my Pinot Noir after our delicious meal. I looked around at all of the cards, candles, and our beautiful tree, and it finally felt like Christmas. It was perfect, and I smiled as Monte walked toward me. He smiled mischievously and asked me, “Do you think I can swallow this thing...whole?” I stared at the racquetball-sized dinner roll in his hand, rolled my eyes and said, “Ummm, are you kidding me? No.” {This is the moment when the scene shifts from a lovely evening to a bizarre incident.} He obviously interpreted that as a challenge, and then asked if I would "dare him" to do it. Well, I didn’t say he could do it in the first place, so there was no way I was going to "dare him" to do such a ridiculous stunt. I went back to washing the china and listening to the Christmas carols. A mere five seconds later, I looked up as he was smashing the entire roll into his mouth. Without chewing, he began making exaggerated swallowing motions and chuckled a bit, revealing a glimpse of the large ball of dough in his cheek. Still no chewing. {This is about the time I remembered that the night before we watched a television program on the Discovery Channel about giant anacondas and their unbelievable ability to ingest large animals by unhinging their jaws, and the exact moment I felt like smacking him up side the head.} His swallowing motions continued—this time attempting to use his whole neck to force the dinner roll down his throat. All of a sudden, his eyes bulged and he started gulping more furiously.
GULP. GASP. GULP....PANIC!!!
He tried to speak, but only a faint gurgling sound came out. His face was bright red and his eyes began spewing tears. He started jumping up and down in a peculiar attempt to coax the fresh-baked ball of death from his esophagus. Nothing budged; so he tried to sip water. Obviously, it had nowhere to go and he spit water everywhere. He grabbed his throat. He grabbed his throat!? WAIT!!!! There it was!! ...the Universal Choking Sign!!! Every health class or textbook I had ever seen flashed before my eyes. I ran behind him and assumed the position...found his diaphragm...grasped my fists...THRUST....THRUST! Within seconds, the soggy, football-shaped roll launched into the sink as Monte collapsed to the floor from exhaustion. We both rolled around on the kitchen floor laughing, crying, and laughing some more while trying to come to grips with the fact that I had just Heimlich-ed an entire dinner roll out of my husband. It’s been days, and I lose it every time I picture his face during the most idiotic, dangerous, and hilarious stunt I have ever witnessed. I just thank the Dear Lord Teeny-Tiny Baby Jesus that Monte is still alive.