I’m sick. Yes I am, but not in the way that you think if you’ve read Angel of Death.
(By the way, my latest novel will be inflicted on America this Tuesday, September 28.)
I’m sick with a cold. Sneezing. Coughing. The whole bit.
I grew up believing that sneezing was the way my body got rid of infection. “Your nose is trying to remove stuff that doesn’t belong in it.”
What nonsense. If that were true, I’d sneeze every time I smelled potpourri. And has anyone ever sneezed him- or herself well? Of course not.
Sneezing isn’t what your body is doing with the virus. It’s what the virus is doing with your body.
The virus is using you to spread. To reproduce. This virus has a terrific reproductive strategy–getting people to sneeze on each other.
Every sneeze is a viral orgasm, sending millions of itself all over your brother’s ham sandwich and finding in him an all-new human love-child.
Yes, I’m sick, but only because aliens are having sex with my body.
Forget all this nonsense about anal probes. Creatures smart enough to overcome the impossibilities of interstellar travel are not interested in what I ate yesterday. And you don’t have to imagine Andromendans to think of sex with aliens.
No, it happens every day. Alien life forms enter our bodies and reproduce and spread themselves. Sex with aliens is much more about nostrils than anuses.
Don’t blush and turn away. You’re not a virgin either. If you’ve had a cold, an alien virus has had its way with you. If you’ve sneezed, you’ve ejaculated the alien on everyone nearby.
So, what can we do to stop this alien orgasm? We can eradicate the monsters! We can sneeze into our elbows so that those buggers don’t land on our hands. We can sneeze into our armpits if we’re flexible enough. We can wash our hands every chance we get, listening as “millions of voices suddenly cry out in terror and are suddenly silenced.” We can drink fluids, which helps us piss them out, and we can stay home from work (which I’m doing right now) and get rest, so that our antibodies and white blood cells can kill the bastards.
And, best of all, we taunt them. “I am a multicellular organism, the result of 2.5 billion years of evolution. What? You’ve evolved that long, too? Funny! You still look monocellular to me!”
That’s my ultimate victory against the aliens that take over my body and have sneeze-sex with me.
I’m a novelist. They’re just the common cold.September 24th, 2010
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