Strep Throat

Dear Strep Throat,

I knew you would wait for me. I know you live me a lot, ever since I was a little kid, you wait for me every year.

And then you pounce and before I can say "throat culture", you've got your knives scraping the back of my throat, you've made my mouth feel 8 times hotter than normal, and you've given me a fever that leaves me so weirdly uncomfortable, all I can do is cry.

You don't stay very long, so it's not like I can go to the hospital and get good drugs or lots of sympathy.

No, you stay long enough for me to justify a Quarter Pounder with Cheese Value Menu and a vanilla shake being the only food I eat for a couple of days and then you're gone and I'm left feeling fatter and bloated since everything but McDonald's hurts me when I eat it.

Then you're gone to the point where I won't infect others and to where I can't just lie there because I sort of feel better.

But you're not totally gone.
You're waiting.
You're making sure I don't eat more McDonald's. You're making sure I don't go to practice. You're making sure I force myself into my sick bed early so that you don't act as a Gateway Illness and allow pneumonia or tonsillitis to infect me.
You're cock-blocking me from the diseases that people care about, the ones that get you out of work and off the hook when you call American Honda to try to pay your car payment 10 days after it's due.

You're a jack-ass Strep Throat but get it while you can because I'm onto you.
I know the drill.
I'll pound you out and then I'll be free - oh, you're always watching, I know... but someday, you won't be.

And I will make damn sure I end up with pneumonia, require extensive hospitalization and therefore get lots of presents and you'll feel soooooooo ineffective that you'll finally leave me forever!


arizonasarah at 3:08 p.m.

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