I’m sick. I woke up on Sunday feeling like I’d been run over (repeatedly) with a fever of 101. Here’s what happened when I went to the doctor on Monday.
“Good news!” doc says. “It’s not the flu!”
“Well, what is it?” I asked.
“You’ve got the crud,” he answered.
“You just made that up, didn’t you,” I grumbled inbetween coughing up chunks of my spleen.
“Here’s some samples and a prescription. Feel better!” And then he ran.
The crud. I’ve got the crud. What the fuck is the crud? Damn you, western medicine!
So I’ve been out of work all week. I’m pretty sure most of my internal organs have been coughed up, so I’m not sure how I’m still alive. Must be the antibiotics. But hey, at least it’s not the flu! Fucking quack.
Here’s a lame-ass haiku dedicated to my sickness.
spleen done got away
intestine sobs in mute pain
liver is laughing