Apocalyptic Delirium

April 19, 2008 at 3:08 AM | Posted in Journal | Leave a comment
  Having food poisoning is a lot like being trapped in a bad marriage.  You just wish for whatever is causing the pain to go away.  You’re in a delirium, and in this fevered state your mind is living an alternate life where you are happy, the pain is gone, and you’re not shitting yourself.
  Tuesday night, Detroit and I go to the store for some stuff for dinner, but–as is sometimes the case–we decide to put the big cooking off for another night and just get something quick for tonight.
  In retrospect, that might not have been a good idea.
  Wednesday at work, I’m minding my own business….you know, more or less.  Part of my business is whatever everyone else is doing, unless it’s not that interesting.  Having ADD is like living an unfiltered life.  But the girls in the pit are going to order out, and today I feel like being apart of the group.
  My sammich that I ordered was not that good, but not bad.  Bland, actually.  About an hour later my tummy was rumbling.  About half hour later I was seriously pre-occupied with the unique sensations my body was having.  I emailed my boss and left.
  It’s a nice day.  Perhaps the nicest so far this year.  High Temp in the upper 60s, clear sky, slight breeze–it’s the perfect day…
  It’s 230 in the afternoon, and I lay down.
  Lots of thoughts roll through my brain in the next several hours.  I have the flu.  The superflu, the one that killed everyone in The Stand.  Or the big flu pandemic of 1918.  I traveled through time and got sick.  They always warn you that if you’re going to travel through time to make sure you get immunized. 
  Wait, I got my flu shot this year.  Why isn’t it working?  It’s some genetically engineered version made by the Russians (because I’m still traveling through time and it’s the early 60s) or the FDA.
  Whatever it is, it’s going to kill me.  Maybe I’m dead already.  But I can still move and talk.  Well, mostly I moan and groan.  I’m a zombie.  I’m the walking dead.  Gross–I prefer my meat cooked at least medium, I don’t care for rare.
  My body hurts on the inside, and yet it feels numb on the outside.  No wonder zombies are so anti-social; I don’t want to talk to anyone.  Detroit carelessly comes to me when I call her, not realizing the danger she is in.  She comes within reach and I paw at her from the bed.  I mean, I think I do.  Actually I might just be lying there.  She brings me water, but zombies don’t drink water.
  Neither do dinosaurs, and I might be one of those, too.  How else would you explain the fact that I can’t lay on my back?  My tail is in the way–duh!  Plus, the clawed hand is clumsy on the keyboard.
  I call out for Detroit, repeatedly.  Loudly.  I think I did.  I think it was loud.  She ignores my pleas for help.  With herculean effort, I rise from the bed and trundle down the hall to find Detroit lying on the couch watching TV.  Clearly, ignoring my plight.  Obviously, she doesn’t care if I live or die or turn into a zombie.
  I get up and go to the computer, simply because my body hurts from lying down so much.  It’s about 10 oclock at night.  The mouse was invented for humans, sadly, not dinos, and so I have difficulty surfing and stumbling.  I type briefly, but lack the coordination to hold the shift key down for capitalization.  No wonder the dinos died out before they developed higher civilization:  they lacked keyboard skilz.
  Detroit goes to bed, and I follow.  She lays next to me, dangerously.  She has no idea what peril she is in, being so close to a zombie dinosaur.  Bravely, her only concern is the noise I make, and would I please stop thrashing about?  Moaning and whimpering to myself as Detroit sighs impatiently, I fall into a restless sleep.
  About 3 am, I wake up.  Completely fine.  Healed.  Returned from the dead.  Ha!  Once again I am triumphant over death, dismemberment, and imminent zombie transformation.  I have lived to tell the tale!
  Man, am I hungry.  I go to sleep with a clear mind, happy that I no longer crave human flesh, and glad that I can now lay on my back without my tail getting in the way.
  I wake up shortly after Detroit leaves for work.  I could get up and go to work…but honestly, I don’t feel like it.  I’m beat from being sick the previous day, and tired from all the sleeping, and my body hurts from all the lying down.
  Plus, yesterday was an incredible day, what with the weather and all–and I feel I was cheated out of it.  I’m taking the day off to "recuperate."
  So, the day after was a pretty good day.  I watched tv, made macaroni and cheese for breakfast, took a nap, went for a drive, sat outside in the back yard, went and got lunch, watched a movie, and took another nap, all before Detroit came home from work. 
  My short stint as a zombie is now a distant memory, but I learned something about myself–something that is somewhat disturbing.  I learned that I could not have one of those jobs where I can work from home, because I would just lay around in my underwear all day and masturbate.

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