A weblog by Hao Lian.
A terrible secret guarded by golems.
A note that thanks you for being born, all those years ago.
When the infection comes, we’ll get drunk and high and I’ll have a million things to say to you that I no longer can. When the infection comes, will we still trade recipes to distill our families’ flesh into potable water? When the infection comes, I’ll constantly self-censor all the dusty areas of my being that you used to sweep out, let them grow into the bunnies of my soul.
When the infection comes, we’ll walk with around with white face masks and not hold hands. When the infection comes, I’ll stare a few inches to the left or right of you instead of staring at the you for so long that you catch me and we smile at each other. When the infection comes, I’ll think constantly about it, wondering if you’re safe beyond the quarantine, wondering if I’m safe anywhere.
Dark Bob walked up to our hero, who struggled in heroic captivity. He smiled and stroked an ebony finger down the slender cheek of IntricacyMan.
“Do you know what the most degrading thing you can do to someone is?” he whispered.
“Give him a federal holiday?”
“No! No! What—You know I want Dark Bob Week to replace Black History Month.” Dark Bob seethed and decided to do this another day.
As the cell door began to close, IntricacyMan muttered—not quiet enough—”That would only work if they could make a Prozac parade float.”
Dark Bob closed the door, sprayed tanning lotion on his weird finger, leaned against it, and cried.
- Ethane: the diarrhea’s in the details
- Ethane: that’s the saying, right?
- Me: Sure, I pray to Diarrhea all the time.
“Wipe us, O Diarrhea, and these, Thy Shits, which we are about to receive from Thy bowels. Through Nausea, our succubus. Achoo.”
To the best of my knowledge, which is vast and infinite, I have never contracted mono or as I call it Heifer’s disease. I thought this was a Good Thing™. Then I read this entirely disturbing Ask Metafilter thread in which people detail their incredibly horrifying symptoms. I’m going to crawl into a corner now after scoring a truckload of valacyclovir from Eugene, my drug dealer.