Been slackin' off, neglecting my style here in this old blog. Need to re-exercise my prose as I've been away for over a month. Here's my wolf flu account. About a week ago I contracted the flu. Not the Norman Rockwell version where an ice pack and a bowl of chicken soup kicks it, but some insane werewolf version. Picture some blood cells with baby versions of your face morphing all-dramatic into baby wolf faces. Snarling, barking wolf flu faces biting healthy and benevolent blood cells thus infecting them with this bombastic new strain of wolf flu.
OTC drugs are crap in this instance, and the only antidote for something like this is human blood.
The next best thing is Suphedrine, so in my case, I hit the pharmacy and got my name added to the Washington state registry of people who buy ephedrine. Popped a couple of those bad boys and through a wall of mucus, some fresh oxygen entered the blood stream, and I felt mildly human again.
Cute Michael-faced blood cells were drawing their six shooters and silver bullets in an attempt to kick that thing. . .
Encouraged, I decided I'd pop three more and sit down for some Photoshop work I'd been contracted out to do. Things go smooth, rapid fast in fact: draw path, inverse, refine edge, delete, new layer, center, flatten, save as tiff, save as jpeg. Presto!
After three hours of this super efficiency, I get up to go to bed. Laying there, I see my resting body, kind of out-of-body like from above. This new me, the guy above the resting me, is holding the photoshop pen and cutting me out of bed with exacting precision. I roll over on my side figuring this will slow this other me down enough to where the resting me can get some shut eye and wake anew as non-wolf flu carrier.
Wrong, he's good and within no time I've got a perfect line of marching ants around my body. To compound matters, there's this tree stump that's now at the foot of my bed. For giggles, I see if my foot will rest on this 2D cartoon version of a tree stump in 3D space. It falls straight off the bed with a thump.
Seeing as how I have this otherworldly power, I tell the omnipotent, photoshop pen wielding version of me to get rid of it. He does so, but it keeps coming back. After about an hour of this madness, I just get up and sit in front of the computer. . .
Okay, my writing button seems to work.