Not Quite Sanguine

“I am the place in which something has occurred.”
– Claude Lévi-Strauss

Everyone’s out for my blood.

Literally.

I mean, just in case there’s any confusion, literally every single person I can think of wants, literally, the liquid that’s pumping around my body right this second.

My parents shoulda copped it when I was still a nipper – what kind of young’un sails through childhood never once falling ill? Have you ever known or heard of someone who was never sick as a kid? Me neither. Somethin’ occurred in me alright… Somethin’ freaky.

Now everybody wants a piece; the CDC, the UN, the CIA, the FSB, the WHO… Probably the Rolling Stones and the Strokes too, knowing my luck. Seriously, there isn’t a group of people on the planet who wouldn’t step over their own kin just to get their grubby mitts on what’s flowing through my arteries.

Anyone who gets the slightest whiff of that sweet, sweet biological immunity – for that’s what all an’ sundry seem to think it is – suddenly becomes like a teenage boy lusting after the school sweetheart. Only instead of their cocks it’s syringes they wanna stick into you.

I won’t tell you where I am – mamma didn’t raise no fool, after all – but I will ask you this:

What would you do, if the whole world was after you?

dr_impossible

Solidarity, brothers & sisters…

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About Seba Roux

Gooner, Socialist, Historian, Slacker. That's pretty much all you need to know.
This entry was posted in Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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