Dragoncaller (dragoncaller) wrote,
Dragoncaller
dragoncaller

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Dripping, oozing, beware of the Blob!

Snails riding rails of smooth silver, glistening moist like morning dew. They slide like syrup, their eye stalks waving about their heads like grass in a warm, gentle breeze. They amass for a meeting, their probes cautious, delicately touching one another, check themselves out, introduce themselves, then pile all together for a orgy of bleargh.

I am in that phase of disease where snot bubbles up into my eye. It's like looking through the window of the machine at the laundromat, slopping bubbles sliding down on the glass only to be replaced by more with each passing turn of the drum.

I thought I had beat this last week. I guess not. I am constructing in my mind a nostril auger, a burrowing bit that will screw up my nose and penetrate the wobbling balloon of fluid that filled my sinus and let it all drain at once. I could fill a toxic glass of green glowing goo complete with a shifting, sliding fog head. That would be entertaining!

Instead, all I have is a slug orgy in my head. Little buggers lounging at my sinus pool, tossing a beach ball back and forth, splashing and frolicking in the ooze.

Nyquill, take me away!
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