A Lack Of Blood To The Brain

(I volunteer at the Red Cross reception desk one morning each week. The job’s not very difficult; mostly I just answer the phone and direct prospective donors to the blood services section elsewhere in the building. One morning a tall, beefy guy comes loping down the hall and stops in front of my desk.)

Guy: “Well, I’m done donating blood!”

Me: “You’re a great American. Hey, do you have any money?”

Guy: “Nope, sorry.

Me: *making my voice mock-whiny* “Not even five bucks? I want to take myself out to lunch after my shift ends!”

Guy: “You’re out of luck.” *jokingly* “You’ll have to settle for a kiss.”

(He leans over the counter and kisses me on the forehead. I hear a sharp intake of breath, turn around, and see our volunteer coordinator standing behind me with a horrified expression on her face.)

Me: “Oops. [Volunteer Coordinator], I don’t think you’ve ever met my husband.”