Written in Ink

Bring me a milkshake, universe

That scratch in the throat which goes away when you drink, but keeps coming back. A little burny feeling in the lungs, right at the clavicle. Headache originating from sides of nose. Woozy feeling, like you're bound to say or write anything. Craving for a McDonald's milkshake, chocolate, large. Actually, what I'd like to do is hire some teeny tiny little workers to crawl down there and just paint my throat with milkshake, and then seal it down.

Yeah, I'm definitely getting a cold. But then again, I believe in the power of suggestion and I refuse to suggest a cold to myself, so forget I mentioned this.


Why is this important? It's not. But then again, maybe this is the cold that kills me. You never know. Remember how Jim Henson died suddenly of pneumonia, and they said he had been fine up until he just kinda said he needed to rest. That is the way to go, isn't it? He had good karma and he went peacefully, maybe that wasn't a coincidence. At least I think he had good karma. By all accounts he had good karma...

sigh. My throat hurts. I want a McDonald's chocolate milkshake but I don't want to drive there. Do you think I should put an ad on Craigslist for somebody to come drive me? I mean, this is an actual emergency and not just being drunk in a snowstorm.

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