I had been down for the better part of the day and woke to a real life Texas Ranger in my room.
"You are"? I asked putting on my best snooty dignitary voice. I don't know why I was feeling so damn chipper; I was just given a death sentence. I had been poisoned by an insane lunatic super fan. The poison had been tricky. It was an ugly mix of arcane alchemy and state of the art biology and jet black magic. Silica and Oracle put their collective smarts together and created a treatment that involved many incantations and simultaneously removing and replacing all the blood in this lump of shit I call a body. Strangely is exactly what the bad guy had anticipated. The poison was introduced into my blood stream via laced bayonet. It got into my bloodstream and knock the shit out of my immune system. When the blood was removed the crafty little phantom assassin leached into my bones, my organs and my husk. It was in every inch of me. Worst still the more I'd did the worse it got. Even my diet was potentially feeding it. If eating a bowl of cereal was going to knock me out fighting a werewolf would put me in a coma.
I passed out at the pig farm and woke up in the lab. The big brains ran a battery of tests on me. Once they knew "it" was still living in me it was easy enough to pick out analyze and and figure out it's MO. Unfortunately isolating and removing it was another problem altogether. When today, tomorrow and yesterdays smartest man around tells you " The science is way beyond him" your brain automatically translates it to terms that directly apply to you as "you're fucked, kid" and I was.
Stasis was the best idea he had beyond that. They could analyze it and I couldn't do less than suspended animation. If it fed off of my and my energy then maybe we could starve it out. I thought about it. I really did, but I'd rather be out fighting the good fight letting this thing eat away at me than to kick it Walt Disney style wile my friends are out fighting for the night. But now that I say that out Loud..... I wonder if I am a idiot.
They broke my quality-of-life in addition to training me. It was also raising up all the stuff that I didn't want: high blood-pressure, my glucose etc. etc. etc..
Things I can do for any length of time without getting tired: nothing
Things I can eat without putting myself in danger of diabetic stroke, plain ol' regular stroke or heart attack: nothing
Amount of wiggle room I have to get an infection and not get killed by a common cold or have my limbs amputated due to infection: zero
The man in my room stood quiet for minute after my cinematic rant. He looked confused, not scared, but confused. He held out his hand and introduced him self as " detective Dale Palmer" I remembered who he was right away. I got a message from him a little bit before we left for the pig farm. He said he was returning my call. Only only problem is I didn't and don't remember why I called him or calling him at all. Directly after I got poisoned there were some blank spots I'd wake up from my coma get up do you a whole episode of Trick or Treat Radio and go lay down like nothing happened and having zero memory of anything happening. I'm guessing I called him sometime during that time, but why?
Without any more small talk he handed me a small manila file and like the idiot I am I opened it. My heart jumped into my throat and dropped into my stomach like the weight on one of those carnival strong man games. The skinny peewee that had become my soul could swing the hammer as hard as he could to try to make my heart jump where belongs but instead it just sat in my nauseated stomach bobbing around like a severed booey in the ocean.
These pictures were a message. Confirmation of the fact that my past was not going to let me ride off into the great unknown quietly and in peace. My past was going to try to rush me into the grave as fast and as best it could and whether did it by stress or tearing me limb from limb was a detail it was entirely indifferent to.
On Sun, Aug 30, 2015 at 3:46 PM, Mike Mars <michaelmarsjr@gmail.com> wrote:
monday, August 31 blog
I have been down for the better part of the day And awoken to a real life Texas Ranger in my room.
"You are"? I asked putting on my best sooty dignitary voice. I don't know why I was feeling so damn chipper I was just given a death sentence. I had been poisoned by a Insane lunatic super fan. the poison had been tricky. It was a ugly mix of arcane alchemy and state of the art biology and jet black magic. Silica and Orical put their collective smarts together and Created a treatment that involved many incantations and simultaneously removing and replacing all the blood in this lump of shit I call a body. Strangely is exactly what The bad guy had anticipated. The Poison was introduced into my blood stream via laced bayonet. Got into my breads bloodstream and knock the shit out of my immune system. When the blood was removed the crafty little phantom assassin leached onto my bones my organs my bones my husk. It was in every inch of me. Worst still the more I'd did the worst it got. Even my diet was potentially feeding it. If eating a bowl of cereal was going to knock me out fighting a warwolf would put me in a comma.
I passed out at the pig farm and woke up in the lab. the big brains ran A battery of tests on me. Once they new "it" was still living in me it was easy enough to pick out analyze and and figure out it's MO. Unfortunately isolating and removing it was another problem altogether. When today tomorrow and yesterdays smartest man around tells you " The science is way beyond him" your brain automatically translates it to terms to that directly apply to you "you're fucked kid" and I was.
Stasis was the best idea he had beyond that. They could analyze it and I couldn't do less then suspended animation of it fed off my and my energy then maybe we could starve it out. I thought about it, I really did but I'd rather be out fighting the good fight letting this thing eat away at me then let kick it Walt Disney style wile my friends are out fighting for the night. But now that I say that out Loud..... I wonder if I am a idiot.
They broke my quality-of-life of life in addition to training me it was also raising up all the stuff that I didn't want high. I blood-pressure my glucose etc. etc. etc..
Things I can do for any length of time without getting tired: nothing
things I can eat without putting myself in danger of diabetic stroke Plano ol regular stroke heart attack: nothing
Amount of wiggle room I have to get an infection and not get killed by a common cold or have my limbs amputated due to infection: zero
The man in my room stood quiet for minute after my cinematic rant. He looked confused not scared but but confused. He held out his hand and introduced him self as " detective Dale Palmer" I remember who he was right away. I got a message from him A little bit before we left for the pig farm. He said he was returning my call, Only only problem is I didn't and don't remember why I called him or calling him at all. Directly after I got poisoned there were some blank spots I'd wake up from my coma get up do you a whole episode of trick or treat radio and go laydown like nothing happened having zero memory of anything happen. I'm guessing I called him sometime during that time but why?
Without any more Smalltalk hr handed me a small manila file and like the Idiot I am I opened it. My heart jumped into my throat and dropped into my stomach like the weight on one of those carnival strong man games strongman Man games. The skinny peewee that have become my soul swing the hammer as hard as you could to try to make my heart jumped where belongs but instead of just sat in my nausea stomach probably around like a severed bowie in the ocean.
These pictures what a message. Confirmation of the fact that my past was not going to let me ride off into the great unknown quietly and in peace. My Past was going to try to rush me into the grave fast and best it could and whether did it by stress or Tearing me limb from limb was a detail it was entirely indifferent to.
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