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It had all happened so quickly.
One moment Krusty was in front of the cameras, cracking jokes, juggling cream pies, promoting Krusty brand products to the delighted crowd of impressionable children— then? He was on the floor, gasping, stage hands rushing towards him and Lois would have joined them had she not dashed instead for the emergency phone, fighting to keep her voice steady as she ordered an ambulance.
After an eternity of pacing and wringing her hands outside the emergency room, Lois nearly fainted with relief when the doctors announced the pacemaker surgery a success. Thankfully, a flash of her studio ID permitted her entry to the tv sensation’s private recovery room and she hadn’t moved from his bedside since.
Krusty simply looked out of place – dozing away, his green hair, red nose, and painted features clashing violently with the drab hospital gown, his oversized clown shoes sticking up under the sheets in a ridiculous, almost comical manner. Clowns didn’t belong in hospital rooms unless they were cheering up sick children and Lois couldn’t help but feel responsible.
Of course, she was no expert on heart attacks and their symptoms, but she was his personal assistant for goodness sake! She should have noticed something, anything, in his usual round of complaints that seemed even a bit suspicious. If only she had just kept a closer eye on his diet or more firmly insisted he keep up with his routine exercise despite his threats of termination – which were mostly empty anyway, for where could he find a replacement who knew her job half as well?
Krusty grumbled something and Lois was already out of her chair before she realized he was still asleep. Having a dream no doubt! She hovered besides the bed, gazing through her disheveled lavender bangs at the familiar sight of her slumbering boss. Even in sleep, his brow was crumpled in slight agitation and his mouth hung agape in a rather unattractive fashion, yet Lois couldn’t help the fond little smile that tugged at her lips.
How many times had walked into his dressing room to find him napping before a show? Shaken the groggy clown awake and helped him straighten up so he didn’t make a fool of himself? Enough to better time the preparation and delivery of his morning coffee. Enough to expect and respond to the sour attitude with patience.
Enough to know just how much he relied on her.
Lois wanted so badly to talk to him, to apologize for her negligence, to berate him for his unhealthy lifestyle. If only she had her clipboard! Her fingers were itching to scribble a note to purchase a book on medical conditions, not that she would need to write down such an important task, but it would help to feel she was doing something useful, rather than sit there and contemplate what was almost lost.
Krusty murmured again in his sleep, gloved fingers twitching. Quite thoughtlessly, Lois reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing gently.
His sleepy sigh was all she needed to hear. The little knot of fear that had been curled in her stomach since the cramped ride in the ambulance loosened. Feeling a little dizzy, Lois resumed her seat, her hand still shamelessly gripping the clown’s— its warm, affirming contact strengthening her resolve. So help her god, Lois would never let anything like this happen again.
Or next time, Krusty wouldn’t be the only one in need of a pacemaker.