What Could It Be?

J.P. was out of town, so several girlfriends and I decided to have a pot luck dinner and game night at my house. The food was wonderful and laughter warmed the room.  The games were fun and as usual the most raucous laughter was saved for Rita's irreverent and silly responses. It was easy to hear her 'voice' among the list of definitions we would each create for the dictionary game (aka Balderdash). "That was Rita's, for sure," one of us would yell. She never won the game, but then again, she never really expected to with those answers.

My son, Justin came in midway through the evening, said goodnight to the ladies and went upstairs to his room. 

As with all things good, the evening of giggles, snorts and all around merriment finally came to a close and the last guest and I bid each other adieu. I sighed.  It had been such a happy time, but it was late. I battened down all the hatches and dragged my weary body up the stairs. Yawning, I switched on the bathroom light, performed my bedtime ablutions, then stumbled to the bedroom where my jammies awaited. Removing my pants, I was horrified to see that my legs from above the knees to the top of the thighs, were black.  I glanced at my hands and was filled with dread.  My fingertips were also black.  My heart pounded, my mouth was dry; I couldn't breathe.  I was dying.  I was sure of it.  I was dying. A cold sweat covered my body and I became even more light-headed than is my usual state. But, what could be the cause of this horrific malady?  What causes legs and fingertips to turn black?  Justin might know.  He had taken Red Cross and First Aid courses to become a lifeguard.  I hated to wake him, but I was desperate for help.  

"Justin?"  

"Yeah?"  His voice was thick with sleep.  

"Wake up.  Can you look at this and tell me what it might be?"

The bright light flooded the room.  He squinted.  He looked at my limbs and the black fingers I held in front of his face. 

"What is that?"

"I don't know, but I'm really scared.  Do you have any idea?"

"No, I've never seen anything like that before."

"Okay, I'm going to the hospital."

"Should I go with you?"

"No, you stay here.  I'll call you when I find out what it is."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'll be fine.  Stay here."

I walked quickly back to my bedroom, threw my clothes back on, ran down the stairs, grabbed my purse and my keys and dove into the car. Heart racing, I drove out of our subdivision and sped toward the hospital.  

I got about a kilometer from home, when it struck me.  I pulled over to the side of the road and doubled over laughing.  I laughed until the tears streamed down my face. How could I be so stupid!  Oh, my! Howling in merriment, I flashed back to the event that had lead up to this fiasco.  I saw myself at the clothing store, trying on the pants. They fit so well and were so soft.  I loved the material and rubbed my fingers over it.  I bought them of course and wore them home.  The velvet was so soft and downy, I couldn't stop rubbing it.  I rubbed that deep, black velvet all day and all evening.  I rubbed it so much that the dye had stained both my legs and the fingers that had caressed them all day long!