sick

I’ve been sick as a dog for the last couple of days.
Sick as a dog? I won’t even pretend to understand the English language. Speaking of the English language, who the hell knows how to use a semi-colon properly? You want to end the sentence; but you don’t; so you just shove it; somewhere?

Anyhow, back to my affliction: Spent the last two days lying in bed having K wait on me (erm, no, didn’t actually deliver the whole “its not you, its me” break-up speech I’ve been formulating – YET). I’m supposed to pick up the results of my blood test today and find out exactly what’s wrong with me. Could be a cold or the flu or cholera or Tuberculosis or the on-set of AIDS or... Hmm, maybe I should just wait for my results.

I have a feeling it might have something to do with the four bloated mosquitoes I killed this morning flying around lazily, slower than usual since they were stuffed with my blood. I killed them, if for nothing else, just to wipe the smirk on their bloodied faces. I probably didn't have to coz they were so fat any moment they would've popped on their own anyway. My apartment is buzzing with hundreds of those deadly little carnivores and nothing I do seems to get rid of them. I hardly ever get sick; (oooooh! could that actually be the correct use of a semi-colon??) in fact it was probably back in 2001 the last time I had anything more than a runny nose. Been in this blood sucking fest for 1 month and I suddenly come down with fever, shivers, coughs, the whole shebang. I’ve tried insecticides and some weird coily thing that burns all night and reeks up the entire place so bad that even I don’t wanna be in the apartment although the mosquitoes don’t seem to mind much. There’s this lotion that is supposed to ward off bugs from within 1m of me. More like attracts them from the look of things. There's something you plug into the power outlet which is supposed keep them away from the building, not much good that's done me so far. A combination of all four seems to result in the sweetest perfume, because thats when they come diving into my skin brandishing forks and knives with a napkin tied around their neck.

At this stage there’s only one thing left to do: BURN THE HOUSE DOWN. That ought to show 'em who’s boss. But I've been advised against that, so instead, my apartment is getting professionally fumigated today - you're going down, sick bastards! I can almost picture a dozen or so masked men striding into the apartment in slow motion, surrounded by a cloud of toxic fumes as the Mission Impossible soundtrack resonates in the backgound...

Hopefully that’ll keep me safe.
For a week, at least.