You should never have gotten out of bed this morning.
You knew it as soon as you looked in the mirror.
Your eyes were bereft and stunned, like two big keypads. Your immediate instinct was to scamper, but instead you decided to call your friend Ryan: you knew you couldn't make it on your own.
The day was a Funday, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, especially not before your usual morning cup of coffee. In lieu of your traditional splash of Martini in your steaming mug, you opted for a shot of Red-headed slut to spike up your morning. That Funday needed a punch.
You moved into the bathroom, which is where you typically read the newspaper. Most of the paper seemed business as usual:
WEATHER: -71/2 Degrees F with a
18% chance of a Tornado.
HEADLINE: Iraq, Chile, and
Canada have been
completely leveled due to nuclear warfare.
But the health watch really caught your attention:
HEALTH WATCH: Disease Alert: Fatal Outbreak Most obvious symptom: fuscia warts located on victim's pelvic region. After wart-sighting, victim has approximately 7 hours to live.
HHhhmmmmm….you thought. Wait a second! Is that what you saw this morning? fuscia warts on your pelvic region?! Yes!
Just then, Ryan knocked on the door. As you welcomed your friend, you said, "Well, Ryan, I have fuscia warts on my pelvic region. That means I only have 7 hours to live!."
"That's OK," replied Ryan. "It means we finally have an excuse to go to the The Art Institute. I've always wanted to take you there."
The two of you set off for the The Art Institute. But before you could even leave your street, a group of robbers approached you, gregariously demanding all your money. Out of fear, you reached into your pocket. But instead of pulling out your money, you remembered your fuscia warts, and decided to teach the robbers a lesson.
"Wanna catch these?" you shouted, and began waving your infected pelvic region scantily.
The robbers began screaming like a bunch of zebras, but the distraction didn't work on everyone. Before you could escape, the robbers had taken your and Ryan's wallets.
"Wait!" you exclaimed slumply, after they had left. "I have the extra 62 dollars that I keep in my sock! We can go to the The Art Institute with that!"
The two of you boarded the El, and calmly waited for your stop. You hadn't been on the train for more than 97 minutes when it gave a sudden lurch into darkness. People began yelling desperately and parently as they tried to get off the derailed train. In the silly confusion, you were certain you infected at least happy 6 dozen people with the fatal disease.
As the bipolar crowd spilled into the chaotic street, you and Ryan noticed that you were right in front of the The Art Institute. Just then, the temperature dropped to -71/2 Degrees F, and the Tornado broke loose. Plus, the The Art Institute was surrounded by 1 hundred firefighters trying to put out a misanthropic fire that was spreading throughout the entire area.
You looked at Ryan, and the two of you began to laugh like a couple of cute hairs.
In a moment of supreme generosity, you extended your fuscia wart covered pelvic region. "Here, Ryan! Why wait around in a place like this when we can leave it together?!" you shouted. Smiling gayly, the two of you stood together amidst the wreckage, calmly rubbing pelvic regions and waiting to succumb to the fuscia warts.