me: I’m dying.
Victor: You’re not dying. You have a cold.
me: I have hemorrhagic fever.
Victor: Did you just make that up?
me: No, I’m deadly serious. First of all, I have a fever, and last night I had a nosebleed, and now my teeth are bleeding.
Victor: I’m pretty sure teeth can’t bleed.
me: My gums then. Whatever. The point is that I’m hemorrhaging internally. Probably to death.
Victor: I think you’re confusing hemorrhagic fever with gingivitis again.
me: I don’t have gingivitis.
Victor: Well you also don’t have hemorrhagic fever.
me: It feels kind of like the Ebola Virus. But like, totally worse.
Victor: Where are all the forks?
me: I think I’m bleeding out of my eyeballs.
Victor: Try to do it over the sink. Seriously, why don’t we ever have any clean forks?
me: My nose just fell off.
Victor: Why are all these dirty dishes in the washer? Why would you go to the trouble of loading the dishwasher and not just start it?
me: I can’t feel my legs.
Victor: Great. Now we have no forks. Way to go, hon.
me: My heart just stopped and now I’m craving brains.
Victor: And of course we don’t even have plastic forks. If you use all the damn plastic forks you need to tell me so I can buy more.
Victor: How the fuck am I supposed to eat spaghetti with a spoon?
me: *gurgle* * associated sounds of decomposition*
Victor: Motherfucker. So I guess I’ll have to go buy the forks since you’re too sick?
Victor: Fine. I’m taking your car. I’ll be back in a bit.
Disclaimer: Only the first few sentences of this post have actually happened. The rest is a reenactment of what I assume will happen later this afternoon when Victor realizes that we don’t have any forks and I die of spite neglect whatever made those Nazi’s explode at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. I’m pretty sure that was hemorrhagic fever too.
Comment of the day: Just be thankful it’s not *Hemorrhoidic* Fever. Cleaning up exploding brains would be the LEAST of your worries. ~ moooooog35