flu

Joyride to madness

Joyride to madness

By jfarrell

 

You’re tired, you know you wanna go to bed;

Do you really wanna open another can now?

Yep!!!! don’t mind if I do.

Hic!

 

I was fading, almost gone,

But, like Popeye, I crush that can, glug, glug, glug;

See that shirt rip…. see them biceps grow.

Hic!!!

 

Hang about…. it’s about now….

5.

….4…3…..2……

Dragon arrives right on time, better than Uber.

Hic!!!

 

Racing through a burning forest,

Sorry, my bad, my dragon set it a ablaze…

She sneezed, so sorry my bad.

Hic!!!!

 

Racing through a completely burnt forest….

Mist, smoke, nothing but smell of burning everywhere;

Again, I apologize, my bad, Karla got flu…

 

YEAH!!! YEAH!!! ALRIGHT!!! STOP THERE!!!!!

How the hell can an invisible dragon (who, technically, doesn’t exist)

Get flu????????????

Hic!!!!

 

Do I look like a vet to you?

I’m an idiot,

How I know if dragons get flu?

Hic!!!

 

But, my invisible (non-existant) dragon has flu….

Bugger…. she sneezed and the Aylesbury Estate nothing

But ashes.

Hic!!!

 

I sit in the smouldering remains of my home,

Cataloguing my loss;

Karla, redfaced and offering me a can of beer, snuggles beside me.

Hic!!!!

 

You’re tired, you know you wanna go to bed;

Do you really wanna open another can now?

Yep!!!! don’t mind if I do.

Hic!!!

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

drunks and the habit

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WMD By jfarrell Dressed in my fred flinstone trunks, Riding my silver surfer surf board; I crest the wave of fire, I crash into the wave of ice And howl in fury. That bloody unicorn’s got my bag of weed! I crash up against a barrier and feel myself enve

WMD

By jfarrell

 

Dressed in my fred flinstone trunks,

Riding my silver surfer surf board;

I crest the wave of fire,

I crash into the wave of ice

And howl in fury.

 

That bloody unicorn’s got my bag of weed!

I crash up against a barrier and feel myself enveloped,

Spider’s web spinning about me

Faster and faster…..

 

Damn…. this is a nifty looking space suit….

How does it work?

Of course!

Control panel on left arm (it’s in all the films).

 

WHOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH…….

That unicorn ain’t getting away with my weed!

I rise over my black, silvery ocean of flu

And look around…

 

THERE!

At the epicentre….

There’s my bag of weed…

BOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!

 

As I explode into a half dozen quick sneezes,

Which brings me to 2-3 minutes of coughing my lungs out…

I find the coffee I’m looking for and reach for it.

I can barely register the supermarket about me, my very empty basket.

 

A virus is at work in my body;

Recreating it’s nastiness and passing it on with my every breath;

But I still gotta do the shopping;

Haven’t eaten in 3 days.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

have you seen my unicorn? little fellow, black feathers, one shine horn..... and stolen bag of weed.... reward offered

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Fevered visions

Fevered visions

By jfarrell

 

6 or 7 years old;

I wake in the night, desperate for the toilet

Rush out to bathroom

To see a bright, glowing light emerge

From the bottom of the stairs.

 

Fled in terror back to my bed;

Don’t know what I saw,

But by the time I was under the covers, hiding

It was a glowing skeleton wrapped in chains;

Aglow.

 

Another, flu, bug blurred night;

Awaking again;

This time, the walls and floor go;

As I look, everything recedes, at high speed,

Into an unreachable distance;

There is no floor, just me, the bed

And a dark, bottomless chasm.

 

And the ones I really hate…

I awake to find my bedding is somehow alive,

An intelligent, thinking, malevolent entity

Hell-bent on suffocating me, tying me down;

Holding me responsible for horrid crimes

I can’t remember.

 

Maybe we can’t cure flu,

Because it’s really tiny aliens

Hell-bent

On messing with our heads.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

fever - the strongest hallucinagen known to science

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Christmas Hug

 ``````

God! I never get sick,

24 hour stomach virus,

The waves of nausea,

Each one seems longer than the next,

And then cold sweats,

Kick covers off,

Pull covers up,

Moan a little, so I can hear I'm still alive.

 

Oh how I hate nausea.

 

Finally, 3:30 a.m.

I purge, gratefully so,

And my throat burns,

The taste is awful,

And I curl up like a kitten in bed

To listen to the wind howl outside my window.

It's warm and I feel comforted.

 

I doze off thinking next time 

I'll be more sensitive about my needs

So I don't have to puke my guts up

To feel comforted.

 

I hate nausea,

Oh I hate it

Like another Christmas spent

With everyone else but you.

 

``````

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