It came for them first. Started with four, then it took two more then two more. It waited a day, then took another.  The day after that it took down two, then two more, and now a twelfth.  I don't know who it will take next. Everyone is wary.  Looking for signs. Waiting. Scared.

Stomach viruses are no joke.

Like standing above a vast forest and watching trees mysteriously topple and fall.  A random selection of destruction.  Which tree will go next? Why? How?  All I know is it a liquid hell for roughly six hours and then just misery for the next 33.  I think I’ve lost all the weight I might’ve gained on Christmas and then some.  I ate solid food last night for the first time in two days.  It went down easy. It stayed down blissfully.

My stomach still feels shitty.  And the underwear and sweatpants that I sharted into whilst puking are still sitting in a cold, damp heap in the corner of my childhood bedroom.  I half-heartedly rinsed them in the shower after my grand finale of shitting while simultaneously puking into a bathroom trash can.  I could almost see the pyrotechnics, hear the cymbal crash.  

The audience stared with both amusement and horror and then applauded after I stood bare-assed in the shower, rinsing my bottom along with my fouled clothing.  I half-heartedly waved in acknowledgement of their acknowledgement before slowly closing the shower curtain.  I got out of the shower sometime after the house lights dimmed and I no longer heard the buzz of their exiting murmur.  I crawled back onto the rock hard futon in my childhood bedroom and slept until noon.

In the wake of this attack I’ve been binge watching Black Mirror and started a show called Godless. Both on Netflix.  It’s been entertaining but considering I’m on vacation this week, it’s hardly a match for the grand plans I had made for the time off.  Oh well.  Sometimes our bodies are the boss of us and we are reminded we are just meat, muscle and blood.  Sometimes we are just passengers and the conductor gives no fucks that we want the train to stop so we can get off.  Sometimes you shit yourself while puking so you have to quick flip around and grab a trashcan and puke into it while you shit.  Sometimes God bitchslaps you and reminds you who's boss. Sometimes....well, you get the picture.

I miss you.


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