And then the cows come home to roost

Note: the beginning of this faux odyssey can be found here. Probably should start there so that these several posts below make any kind of sense. 

The obligatory stagger around metro New Orleans looking for an open pizza place, then an open fast-food joint, then, as the horror settles in, an open seven-eleven for emergency Doritos and pie. Settling in at Music for a last beer or two, a last cigarette or two, pie, and a bed for Drew and the 2nd most comfortable chair in the Western Hemisphere for me. A wake-up the next morning, leaving a friendly .txt message on Drew’s computer expressing hope that the coming day doesn’t suck. Then, over the next week or so, the alternate universe merges back with this one and things, for all practical purposes, are back to normal. But not really, because we blew it. Damn microbes! Damn them to hell!

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One Response to And then the cows come home to roost

  1. Drew Bixcube says:

    god I love the friendly .txt message. it’s almost the best thing in my life that isn’t generated by my kids.

    fuck.

    my throat barely even hurts now.

    fuck.

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