I narrowly avoided a horrible, dribbly death this weekend.
And no, not by choking on my own vomit (I’m 29, so I’m 2 years clear of dying this way- plus, I’m not enough of a rock star), but rather by means of a virulent; malicious; and (gasp!) sentient toxic event.
An event called Stephan.
The beginning…
Stephan used to be a normally functioning, if somewhat skinny, human, just like you and me.
However, Stephan developed a strange enmity for modern medicine as he developed, and this enmity is where our story REALLY begins.
Stephan started feeling strange on Tuesday or Wednesday night last week, and realised he had an urgent and unavoidable appointment with our toilet. After many an (one must assume) agonising hour on the throne, Stef decided he was well again “Better out than in!” and “I’m just clearing my system!” were some of the many chipper remarks heard the next morning.
Little did Stef know, that deep inside him, someTHING was growing.
He behaved almost completely normally for the rest of the week, and those of us closest to him did not realise anything was wrong- we found it strange he did not want to eat anything and that he turned down a third and fourth whiskey- but nothing roused our suspicions. In hondsight (which is like hindsight only reserved for guys and their ‘homedogs’) it was this inaction that led to The Event.
Sometime in the early hours of Friday morning, the Lurgy made its move, by expelling the contents of Stef’s now empty shell into the toilet where is could be easily disposed of, thereby failing to arouse suspicion, it slowly took over both the most basic and most advanced functioning of its host.
Upon daybreak, I left early as the Stef-thing went about ‘its’ normal routine, with one exception- it now had a greater purpose- to spread its corruption and annihilation as far and wide as it could.
Stef was coughing and spluttering and by the time I returned from my job, he was settled on the couch, eyes and nose streaming and sounds coming from him like a pack of wild dogs that had found an abandoned ginger child on the Russian subway.
I asked him why he had not gone to the doctor yet, or if he wanted me to go to the pharmacy, his reply- emitted in a shower of mucous and expectorated in a rather brusque manner was enough to silence me for the rest of the weekend.
Over the next 48 hours, Stef sniffed, coughed, sneezed and quietly moaned his way through his days, while I sat within The Outbreak Zone, unknowingly exposing myself to the evil growing inside of him.
On Saturday, I awoke with scratchy eyes and a sore throat and I immediately blamed Stef, for failing to curb his own infection and now spreading it to me- but (and this is IMPORTANT kids) I have more faith in modern medicine than Tom Cruise has in Xenu. So straight after breakfast I went and got the most basic and least regulated cold remedies- Strepsils and Med-Lemon.
By the time I got back, the Stef-thing had metamorphosized into a bizzarre half duvet-half man creature that left trails of mucous and tainted air wherever it went.
I screamed (in an extremely manly way) as it lunged towards me, dodged its wildly flailing appendages and ripped open the strepsils, throwing one down its gaping maw, whilst skillfully ingesting a double dose myself. After using a spatula to beat it back into Stef’s room, I boiled water with my laser eyes and made some extra strong Med-Lemon, opening the door again just long enough to douse the creature in a rather pleasant smelling Lemon-Menthol liquid, and slamming the door shut again.
The noises heard over the next hour can only be described as “Hrrrrruuuuuuuuuuaaaagh!” – I waited anxiously, sipping on cough medicine as I braced the door against its struggles and silently cursed the fact that I had plugged my phone in to charge in the same room only hours before.
Eventually, all was quiet, so I slipped a slice of toast under the door. When it returned with a note saying “Margerine is not real butter” I knew that my plan had worked- Stephan was back, and modern medicine had won the day!
So remember kids, when in doubt, go and see a fucking doctor before you make everyone else sick.
(Authors Note: No part of this story was embellished or imagined in any way- its is an objective and factual account of the events that took place on the 24th to the 26th of February 2012)
Revolutionary Throwback 