Saturday, September 17, 2005

I'm being stalked by tuberculosis victims!

i used to get kisses and romantic from my last boyfriend, but since i switched to tb guys, all we exchange is blobs of phlegm.

at first i resisted. as you would. if there was herd of tb victims crouched outside YOUR front door. but it is futile to resist them. you know they're there. you can hear them coughing in the bushes ALL NITE.

oh juliet, if romeo had been cursed with tb, would you have loved him so? would you have left him wheezing and sputtering beneath your balcony and drawn a hot bath instead?

all nite they cough, and to try and make the coughing romantic, they try to cough the lyrics to stevie wonder songs, and strangled compliments.
it goes a little something like this: ughghhghkoffoffkoffff-beautiffoffkoffkoff. and so on, with other drowned phrases like 'silky hair, shiny skin, smell nice, and healthy lungs.' at least that is what i think they're saying.

eventually i could keep my distance no longer. i invited the sickest, louis, in for tea. i let him blow his nose and warm his chest on my couch.

that was both the end and the beginning. now we do everything together. sometimes i wonder how i ever lived without them? because i am never without them. our lungs rattle together in the pub, we double over in the cheese aisle in tesco together, gasping desperately for breath. i had to stop the weekly bike to commute to work, because first they insisted on following me on foot. i had to phone two ambulances to pull them all out of the canal after they fainted two blocks in.
now i'm not strong enough to cycle myself. in fact, i cant remember the last time me and the tb mob left my bedroom.

instead we sit, swathed in wool scarfs with menthol rub on our chests, making phlegm sculptures, daring each other to take a deep breath and laughing about the good old days when the bushes were leafy and the nights outside my window were long.


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