Did I ever mention how much it monumentally sucks when I have hiccups?

Well, it does.

It starts shortly after breakfast after I wolf down my morning meal. I run to my work station and began shoveling away at the piles of dirt, ever so dutifully.

"Hic." The small sound erupts from the back of my throat, causing several workers around me to give strange looks.

Crap.

I shake my head in denial of my own ailment and return to my work. Seconds later I let out another, more high pitched sound.

"Hic!"

"Pitcher Girl, are you feeling okay?" One of the workers ask.

I answer, but its hard to tell what exactly I'm saying.

"I'm--hic--feeling fine. Why do--hic--you ask?"

"Well, here in Cairo it is believed that hiccups are a death omen." The worker replies, giving me a sympathetic look.

I reply with two hiccups in a row.

Great, just great.

Now I'm going to die.

--

Hours later I'm lying on my cot, eyes closed and head throbbing as I hiccup every ten seconds or so. I sound like a drunk man. A dying drunk man.

I could have died a thousand different ways. I could have been pushed off a cliff, or lynched, or killed and cooked into a meat pie. But no, I have to go ahead and die a quirky and fairly annoying death. My gravestone will read: Here lies Marion Elena Ravenwood, taken by hiccups.

That is epic sounding, I tell you.

Indy enters my tent, and though I can't see him I know that sauntering step anywhere.

"I thought you could use some medicine." He says.

My eyes remain firmly shut and I groan in frustration. I hate it when he pops up at the most ridiculous of times.

"Nothing can--hic--help me now." I croak, squinting up at him. "Just--hic--make sure they put me in a nice coffin when I--hic--die."

"Always the dramatic, aren't we?" He asks playfully, sitting down beside me and brushing hair out of my face.

My eyes are fully open now, and I try to look plenty furious.

"I'll--hic--have you--hic--know that this is no--hic--light hearted--hic--topic."

"Of course." His attempt at being serious is foiled as his smug grin slips casually on his face. I'm not sure whether I want to kiss it or smack it off.

"I'm--hic--dying. Just--hic--leave me in--hic--peace."

I finish my speech with a sigh, quickly followed by a rather loud, parrot-like (Do parrots even hiccup?) hiccup.

Indy starts laughing his head off as if there's nothing wrong at the moment. As if no one is sitting here DYING of this infernal disease.

And yet, despite my furious face, he just keeps laughing until I consider asking him if he needs some alone time because seriously, no one can laugh for that length of time without being a) clinically insane or b) completely wasted on alcohol.

When his laughter subsides, he looks up at me from where he had been holding his head in his hands as he cracked up. I can tell by the twinkling and hypnotic state of his eyes and the broad smile on his face that is mood is not about to be dampened.

"Really,--hic--are you done acting--hic--like a madman?" I ask.

He's struggling to hold back another attack of hysterical laughter, I can tell. It takes him a minute, but he finally gains enough control to say, "I brought you a treatment. It's a magical remedy bound to cure your 'illness'."

I give him a raised eyebrows and a questioning hiccup.

"Please try it?" He begs.

"Hic." Is all I say.

With that, he leans forward and kisses me on the lips.

And suddenly, I'm cured already.

But he pulls away all to soon and before I can tell him that I am most certainly NOT completely healed, he shoves something in my mouth.

A sugar cube.

At first I choke on it, eyes watering as the dry, coarse cube hits my throat. I grab the glass of water on my nightstand and chug it down. About a minute later I retain my breath, a near face-breaking smile on me as I realize my hiccups are gone.

I look up at Indiana and throw my arms around him.

I'm not going to die!

HOORAY FOR LIVING!

"Oh thankyouthankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!" I tell him between kisses, hoping its enough for a repayment.

His odd and incandescent blush tells me it is.

"It was my pleasure." He says, standing up. "You know, you're really quite amusing when you think you're on the verge of death. It happens often enough."

"Does not." I retort, standing up as well but failing to measure up to his height.

"Well, since knowing you, you've nearly fallen out of a tree and then you swore you were dead, you claimed to be dying from a homework induced coronary, you once tried to commit suicide by eating your own weight in cookie dough, you drank too much vodka and claimed to 'die' the next morning, and you also almost died from lack of sleep, due to airplane rides."

I freeze, slack-jawed.

Jeez.

Ominous much, Ravenwood?

I shove him out of my tent, though I blow him a kiss as he shakes his fist at me.

I still hear his uproarious laughter as he heads back down to the tomb.

Yay! Surprise update! I was feeling spontaneous and benevolent so I thought I'd give you all an almost-weekend-but-not-quite treat! Please read, review and look for typos!