The Ague
Posted on | October 10, 2011 | 4 Comments
I am unwell.
I am afflicted with Ghastly Belly Fever.
This is as bad as it sounds. Worse in fact. I am as weak as a, particularly pale and wan, Georgian fop, with barely strength to lift a lace handkerchief. Had I the energy, I would beat my sickly and frail body with fists of iron. I have no energy however, and my fists are feeble and limp. Instead, I curse the heavens between muttering incomprehensible fever babblings.
I’m going back to bed.
Comments
Gerry Hayes
I mostly sit around all day and drink tea. Occasionally, I write stuff and send it to strangers so they can humiliate me and deride my efforts. Other than the self-harm to dull the shame of failure, it's not a bad life. Like I say, there's tea.
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I think the reason why this post has no comments is because we’re all worried about catching it off you…
Darn it, now look what I gone done.
I’m relatively sure you can’t catch it digitally. It’s not one of those ‘computer viruses’ you have these days. On computers. And the internet.
I feel the worst has passed. I am no longer involuntarily ejecting consumed matter and some of my manly strength and vigour is returning. This is a good thing as I’m aware I owe you an email. It will be forthcoming.
Y’see all this time I’ve been standing there tapping my watch with a raised eyebrow. It’s only now I’ve realised you can’t see this.
Of course NONE OF THIS IS TRUE and I’ve been headbutting my laptop with other scripts. So no worries about delay.
Glad you are well. If only so I don’t have to read your involuntary ejecting sentences again.
Bless your tolerant, patient (and possibly resigned) nature, Katie Mac. You are a beacon of forbearance. A beacon, I say.