No, SERIOUSLY.

OH MY GOD!

What were you doing hiding in my closet? You gave me a heart attack!

No, SERIOUSLY. You gave me a heart attack!

My chest feels like it is collapsing in on itself,, like a star turning into a black hole! Why would you do this to me? I lead a high-stress lifestyle; didn't you KNOW that was a strong risk factor? And why, oh WHY, are you dressed like THAT?

Why are you laughing? I'm not joking! I would be shouting at you if I weren't experiencing a severe shortness of breath, most likely because failure of my left ventricle has caused pulmonary edema. That's fluid in my lungs, preventing me from gaining sufficient lung capacity to yell at you the way you deserve, not to mention depriving my body of necessary oxygen. This is serious business, even if your suit has pom-poms for buttons!

What did you hope to achieve? Did you think, "I can't wait to see the look on his face?" Well, here it is: a ghastly grimace of pain, covered in beads of excessive sweat (that's diaphoresis, sweetheart!) I hope this lives up to your expectations, because I probably won't live up to ANYTHING if you don't call 911 right away!

"You look like you're the one in greasepaint," you might be thinking. Well, you'd look pale, too, if vasoconstriction were preventing adequate blood flow to your capillaries. Why are you just standing there? The longer you wait to help me, the more likely I am to start down the ischemic cascade. Do you know where that leads? Brain damage! Some prank you've pulled!

Oh, the pain is so great! It's like someone is trying to suck my heart through a straw. I'm too dizzy to look for myself, but I think the muscles in my left arm are being burned from within as if by acid! Was this worth the time you spent applying that clown makeup? Was it worth the price of that frizzy green wig??

Well, I see that you're finally taking this seriously and calling for an ambulance. But here's the scoop: even if I survive this (which becomes less and less likely by the minute!), collagen scars are forming as more and more of my heart cells die. That means I'll be facing a strong risk of arrhythmias and aneurysms for however few years I've now got left. Happy days are here again!

I hope you remember the sound of the blood-curdling scream you let out as you flung the closet door open and leapt at the spot where I now lie prone. I know I will, as it's the same sound I will make if I experience a myocardial rupture, which is now a distinct possibility in the days and weeks ahead. That's a rip in the heart muscle, which, if it occurs in my already-damaged left ventricle, is a near-guaranteed death sentence. And at this point, I'd rather take solace in death's sweet release than to stay here with someone willing to validate my previously frivolous fear of clowns.

Look where your clowning has gotten us now!