Drug paraphernalia

I left work early yesterday.

My guts were in upheval, twisting into positions I thought weren't humanly possible and my ass was a volcano of molten ... well, you get the idea. My stomach was doing more flips than Mary Lou Retton after drinking two gallons of Jolt Cola. And my head felt like it was caving in and splitting at the same time.

My insides were a freeway free traffic when I threw some water and bread down the gullet.

My skin hurt.

My hairs hurt - all of them (if you catch my drift).

My body couldn't figure out if it was hot or cold. I was menopausal without the raging mid-50ish housewife hormones.

That was yesterday. Today, things are returning back to normal inside Temple Melissa. I stayed home from work as a precautionary measure, afraid that the office wouldn't forgive me if the cramps returned and I left a stench in the men's room that would incinerate the next visitor.

I don't get sick often, maybe once or twice a year with the sniffles. I don't get flu shots because I don't get the flu and I think its a medical industry scam. They tell people if you don't buy a flu shot you'll catch this insidious disease and puke yourself to death. So what do they do for the suckers who want (brainwashed) a shot - they inject them with the flu, presumably so they can infect those people who didn't buy a flu vaccine and the medical industry can say "see, you schmucks, you didn't pay into our program so now you're going to die from a runny ass."

Wife, who has a one of those stock tests this weekend to keep her license so she can keep me living in the manner I have become accustomed to, went on full-scale flu lockdown. She tented the compound, chained me to the bed - giving me just enough slack to make it to the bathroom - so I wouldn't contaminate the "safe zones", and donned a gas mask when delivering me fluids and drugs. That's something we don't have a shortage of - drugs. If your tongue is coated in hives and sprouting sprigs of poison ivy Wife has a syrup or pill for it. She cleared off my nightstand and set a pharmacy worth of flu suppresant drugs down giving me so many choices that my head leaked brain fluid from my ears.

"What's your symptoms?" she asks.

"My ass is a torch and my head feels like a match. Oh, and it feels like someone is taking a cheese grater to my skin every three minutes."

"Hmmm, every three minutes, eh," says Dr. Wife. "Well, take this stuff that dissovles on your tongue, then mix this powder with water and drink it with a straw. That's important, if you don't drink it with a straw, liquid will seep from your toenails and your testes will swell to the size of hot air balloons. Once you're done with that, takes these six pills, that will cure your head problems."

I do all that, and wouldn't you know it, I'm feeling much better now. I don't know if her mix-and-match remedies did the trick or if my body just needed to get rid of the virus, but either way I dont feel like I'm having anal sex with the flu monster, anymore.