In which the narrator, boasting of the prowess of his platelets, hectors his covid

The first time I tested positive my disdain was magnificent and lordly. I handed back the test results to the administrator of the test (who happened to be myself) and said merely — “check again.”

But the second time I tested positive, impeccably I burst out laughing and cried out in a jubilant voice that I hoped would be projected backward into my nostrils and throat (cupping my hand to my face for that purpose):

“O thou Covid! O thou damned creature of Night! thou hast landed in the grips of a trap this time! The wrong human orifice hast thou poured thine hated matter in! Now feel the strength of my interior chest and throat against your loathed hide, your pointed crown! Feel the strength of this interior skull against you, now feel my powerful veins thump — like THIS …. and LIKE THIS!” 

And boasting this boast I smashed at my chest and my face with my fists to give Covid an idea of the utter Iron Maiden he had found himself in!  Aha! Though I knew that the mighty fists of my platelets — which are the savagest platelets on the planet — were even mightier than the fleshiest fists of mine hands….

Will the monster turn tail? I rather think so. But there is no where for him to run, is there? Not when I’m all sequestered like this!

%d bloggers like this: