Tag Archives: swine flu

Protect Yourself: You vs. the Swine Flu, Part III

3 May

Looking across the wreckage on the highway, the sun still high in the sky and no breeze. I wipe my brow and close my eyes, collecting my thoughts, putting together ideas until they make what at least resembles a plan. Derek’s leaning out over the blown window of the Tahoe. He’s pale and sweaty, wearing a fake Tommy Hilfiger windbreaker and shorts that don’t match. He looks so stupid. Learn how to get dressed, Derek. I can hear more sirens coming. Soon they will be here, and there’s no way to defend myself, let alone a sleepy/Swine Flu-d Derek. Then I hear another familiar sound, that of a helicopter. It’s Lanny. He’s back.

“Lanny! You’ve come to save us! Man am I glad to see you.” I say.

Lanny steps off the helicopter and brushes past me. He then reaches into the Tahoe and removes a Dredg CD. Lanny turns around without saying a word and gets back into the helicopter.

“Well, shit.” I say.

Things are admittedly bad. This did not go at all as I had planned. I had planned for a lot more deaths and a lot more hot bitches. [Editor’s Note: Kyle, you can’t say “bitches on the internet.” “What? Why? The internet loves that shit. Everytime you say bitch on the internet, an internet gets its internets.” “Just…Ok, nevermind.”]

Uh oh. The police are here. There are so many. This could be trouble. Quiet, let me do the talking.

“Oh, hello!”

“Levante sus manos!” The officer with the megaphone yells.

“Que?” I ask

“Kyle, he’s asking about man holes…” Derek whispers. He’s now touching his face. He told me earlier that he could no longer feel it. In fact, at one point Derek asked me if I had his face in a bag somewhere. I told him he was bat shit crazy and creeping me the fuck out. I got out of the car and told him to stay in his seat.

“Levante sus manos!”

“I heard you the first time!” I say. I immediately regret yelling at this man. I draw my weapon and hear what sounds like thunder bursting in the distance and everything goes black.

I died for a bit but it didn’t stick. Not with me. Nuh-uh.

I wake up in a Mexican Prison. It’s pretty nice, though. They let me blog ‘n shit. Derek’s looking pretty sick. Like, gross as shit. He keeps trying to sit next to me. Gag.

Eventually we’re bailed out by a wealthy benefactor. I won’t say his name, but, you probably know him.

“Thanks, ____!” I say. He told me not to say his name becaues if he did, he’d kill my whole family. At first I laughed, but then he looked at me like this and I knew he was deadly serious.

We reached Denton around 5 or 6. Luckily CVS was still open. On the way home, the radio/science said that the Swine/Bird/Derek Flu was easily treated with a medication called “Tamiflu.” Our benefactor paid for it and dropped us off at our apartment.

“Ok, Derek. Take it.”



“How do you feel?”

“The same, I just swallowed it. Probably won’t be in my system for at least another–” We knock Derek out with a sock full of nickels. Can’t have him talking so much and spreading his…infection. When he wakes up he’ll feel a lot better.

Cover your mouths, wash your hands, and stay away from crowded areas. I love (like) you all (only my friends).

Protect Yourself: You vs. the Swine Flu, Part I

29 Apr

You ever read Animal Farm?  If you did, continue reading the sentence below. If you did not, skip it and laugh as if it was the most hilarious yet tragically-poignant literary joke you’ve ever read.

If you’re reading this, you’re still alive, which means you’re a survivor of the Swine Flu epidemic, Napoleon the pig’s fiercest biological weapon.

The Swine Flu is scary. It rhymes well with the Fine Flu, but don’t be fooled. This shit will kill you… or give you symptoms identical to a regular flu.

That’s right–the Swine Flu is pretty much a flu that our body has no defenses against. What does this mean for all of the American populace that isn’t Wolverine? It means that if you come into contact with it, you’re pretty much screwed.

The horror.

The horror.

Thankfully for the six of you reading this, as well as you Mr. President (winks), I hold the keys to survival.

Shouldn't you be leading our country?

Yea, I see you...you rascal.

I don’t think I can make myself any more clear than this: the enemy is here, the real enemy, and it is the pig population. They stand in their mud pens, eating corn, mushrooms, oats and grass, wallowing and getting fat, just like Michael Moore does in his palatial Beverly Hills mud pen. Pigs, and Michael Moore for that matter, are completely evil and constantly plotting. Plotting for what? Their great escape. Their escape from what? Sounds like paradise to me.

I will save you.

Yesterday, as an experiment, Lanny and I took a trip to Mexico City with a completely healthy –and completely unconscious– Derek Brozowski. Our plan was to infect a healthy, Polish body, and then cure it. Cure it with our science and our love –but mainly just with the science.

Your last, color-coordinated, hope.

Your last, color-coordinated, hope.

We arrive at Mexico City around 3 pm. We make it easily through security, the appearance of a bound and gagged Caucasian hardly a cause for alarm at the U.S./Mexico border. I speak Spanish to the guard.

“Hola, ameego!” I say, I’m very happy to see brown people.

“Hola, señor. ¿Tienes cualquier cosa declarar?”

“Um…Hola, ameego! May yamo Kyle! Goostas el Texas Rangers?”

Here the border officer stood silently and motioned for two other officers sitting in a small both a few yards away. Me and Lanny are removed from the car and strip searched while our car is ran over by a drug dog and a couple of local children. Derek is tied up and beaten, much like a piñata. The guards, Lanny and I all enjoy a couple cervezas while watching the children play with Derek’s limp, pallid body. I love this moment. Freeze. Saving moment in mind.

We drive for 15 minutes and stop by a local convenience store to buy Derek some new clothes. We buy him a Tommy Hillfigger windbreaker and some black windbreaker shorts. They don’t match. Derek’s going to be pissed.

When we reached Mexico City, it was dark. We thought it’d be safe to camp in a vacant lot, because bad guys wouldn’t dare waste their time in an unpopulated, poorly lit, secluded area.

Lanny was shot.

We woke up the next morning and got ready for our day of science. Lanny passed out a couple of times and Derek kept trying to wake up from his drug/blunt-force-trauma induced slumber. What a card. What a god damn fucking shit damn card.

We walk up to the Iglesia del Ser Supremo, a small church within Mexico City. It is here that we inject Derek with a dangerously high level of PCP and convince him that all of Mexico is made of candy. This sets off a feeding frenzy the likes of which no man has ever seen, most likely because it was a feeding frenzy that involved eating an unopened bag of Mexican Doritos and a feral alley cat. Derek licked hand-rail after hand-rail, ate urinal cake after urinal cake until he passed out from overstimulation and an almost lethal blood toxicity level.

Pictured: Hero.

Pictured: Hero.

When Derek came to hours later, we told him what we did. We told him we had done it for the good of science –for the good of humanity. Derek took several swings at us before throwing up blood and falling asleep on the ground.

Lanny was starting to feel guilty so I told him that real scientists never feel guilty and that sometimes they have to make sacrifices for science and that if he really loved science he’d give me 20 bucks becaues I really want it and I really want that marianette over there because it reminds me of Wesley and I miss Wesley he is so sweet last weekend Wesley and me played Zombies but not the videogame we both dressed up in makeup and tried to scare each other but we decided we’d rather hug so we did that all day.

Derek eventually came to. Derek eventually came to realize that if he wanted to live, he needed to shut up and listen to what me and Lanny and marianette Wesley had to say. But unfortunately, our thrilling conclusion is forthcoming. Stay tuned for scenes from the next BLOG *boom*

Next week on: BLOG

“Kyle, what do you mean?! I have to put that where?” Derek screams

*Kyle turns, camera zooms into beautiful profile.*

“If you want to live, you’ll put that damn thing in your–”

*truck explodes*

“Lanny, I’m telling you it’s real!

“Kyle, it’s a damned puppet!”

*Kyle slaps Lanny, tears in his eyes. Lanny looks back at Kyle, grips an amulet around his neck and rips it off. He places the amulet in Kyle’s hand*

“I guess this means I can forget about Morocco. Lift the damn curse on your own.”

*Lanny gets into helicopter*

*cuts to Wesley, clothed in nothing but a loin cloth, standing in the middle of a parking lot

“Why am I covered in honey?! WHERE IS EVERYBODY? DEREEEEEEK!”


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