The Night Daddy Died

 Dragnet with Jack Webb was broadcast on radio after dark. Ivy and I loved that show-- or maybe we loved staying up late. Occasionally we were allowed to stay up and listen while all the others were in bed. One night the show was vivid. A body was found in the front of a Los Angelos liquor store. Jack Webb so masterfully described the crime scene we imagined we could see and smell the body. The bad guy was caught. They always caught the culprits.
We had to pass by Mommie's and Daddy's  bed on the way to ours. Daddy was lying with face turned toward us. There was no snoring-- there was no noise at all.
"He's not breathing," Ivy said.
I leaned in close to his face and agreed. Mommie's face was to the wall.
"What are we going to do? I asked.
"We have to make sure he's really not breathing."
With our heads side by side we leaned down, not three inches from his face.
Suddenly he sprang up. "What are you girls doing?"

"We thought you were dead"
"Get your asses to bed. And no more late night radio."
"But Daddy," we said in unison.
"Get your asses to bed."