Sandy Supposes....

I Habe A Summer Code

Bard's Hall # 9

         I habe a summer code. Germs have struck, very bold. Oh woe is me. Why? Why? I don't get sick's my cry.

         Sniff, sniff. Snort. Snuffle. Sneeze. Swipe. Staunch. Repeat.

         The waterworks cascade non-stop. It's not a drip, or a dribble. My left eye is in danger of floating free of its socket. Flooding has not abated. The tears are streaming on tears. Was there ever a dam that crumbled? Where were the anti-cold fortifications?

         How did this virus slip past my defences? Did my unsuspecting immune system accept/welcome a trojan horse? Sure, come on in, make yourself at home. Stay a while and visit. My respiratory system is your respiratory system.

         This invader has created a munitions factory and tucked it deep within my nasal passages. Bombs disguised as sneezes explode forth at regular intervals. Bonzai scream these missiles as they hurtle from my quivering nostrils spewing their germ shrapnel.Cold clones scatter in a fine mucous spray, invisible parachutes cushioning their landings.

         Misfired, aborted sneezes implode in my sinuses. Shock waves reverberate. Mucous regroups and re-arms. Production intensifies.

         I've attempted to evict my unwanted guests. I've resorted to huffing, puffing, and blowing, but they outnumber me. Despite my vigilant efforts to trap and dispose of them with copious tissues, they continue to attack. They lurk in cavities/bunkers plotting their siege.

         I believe I'm shell-shocked. I habe a summer code. Sigh. Sniff, sniff.