Of course I am scratching my head quizzically, a question on the other side of my temple, as to the nature and degree of the meaning of "emergency" in this question.
Is this referring to a domestic mishap? Well then, the tin box with the red cross emblazoned on its cover contains bandages, gauze, Neosporin, and a few little splints for minor cuts and abrasions.
But perhaps it refers to a crisis not of the flesh and bone.
Relax, the extinguisher tank gauge indicates green, ready for any electrical fire or the oven's smoke-billowing turkey having reached an unwanted state of combustion.
Let me guess: Can't be the car's seat belts and airbags; they passed muster at our dealer's facility.
Might the question be about our mortality? Our attorney secures our wills.
All these possibilities and the whole time the question may have been referring to NOAA's warnings regarding climate change. We do not have an ark at this time. No one at Home Depot yesterday could tell us exactly what length a "cubit" measures to be; they referred us to the local synagogue.
For all this speculation as to the nature of the pickle my family might face today or tomorrow, I may have left out the most important: the federal election of 2016.
The possibility of another member of the Bush family winning the West Wing has already been anticipated. In that eventuality, the glass case on our wall with attached metal hammer contains airline tickets to a remote village deep in the southern hemisphere. (FYI: In such a consequence, even the cat flies.)
As they say in Cooperstown, "Our bases are covered."
-- BINK OWEN, Walla Walla