Henri Bouchard was a daring gent. He was hell bent on thrilling people with his feats of daring-do. It wasn’t so much a death wish, but a horrible case of hiccups.
Madame Bouchard, Henri’s mother always used this tactic with his father whenever his hiccoughs got out of control. She would sneak up from behind and scare the bejeebers out of him.
“Scare a terrible fright, or else you’re up all night!” she would usually remand.
Henri was taken back by high places. His knees would knock and his hands would sweat. His eyes twitched and he found it hard to breathe. But his worst tic came in the form of a bad stammer.
This was a disturbing malady. For when he performed his high wire act, he wore a parachute with the instruction to count to five before pulling the rip chord.
His first jump, was his last jump. Henri took the edge of the platform and leaped into a beautiful swan dive. The audience stared in disbelief when they heard Henri’s countdown.