Sometimes, The Wheel is on Fire

Sometimes, The Wheel is on Fire

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

The Bar of Antibacterial Soap

This whole thing started with a needle pulling thread. Then a sea-monkey followed it into the bar, along with a priest, rabbi, and hooker, a bowl of Rice Krispies, and Jabba the Hutt.

Of course, if I hadn't spent the last few days in a drunken, pun-filled haze, I might have realized a penguin was supposed to be the next one in. Alas, I was asleep at my post and allowed a disease to slip in first.

Today's suggestion comes courtesy of Joelle:
Tuberculosis walks into a bar... somehow.1 The bartender, who'd watched it drive up, stops it in the doorway.
"That's one sick ride you flew in on, but you're not welcome here. Leave."
"Chill, man. Such virulence. Is it the fatigues?"
"No. And as much as it pains me to turn away a customer..."
"I have an infectious personality if you get to know me. Give me a shot."
"No. Now go."
"You can't treat me like this."
"It's my bar, I can do what I want."
"Look, all I want is a drink. I'm on my way to see D.C."
"Not who. The city. Quit being so resistant."
"C'mon, you're killing me. Cough it up. What's the real reason you're so sore?"
"Get out."
"Bloody hell, I've had it with your bellyaching. A pox on thee!"
"Whatever." The bartender points to the door.
"Oh yeah, don't strain yourself or nothing." It looks back before leaving. "Sir, this decision shall plague you the rest of your days. I'll make sure of it."

Okay, now that I've gotten tuberculosis out of my system, I'll be able to tackle the penguin next. (And Shakespeare, thanks to my wife's meddling. It's a two-fer.)

1 I'm assuming prosthetics.


  1. Good thing you have a sick sense of humor!

    1. That's cold, man. You're dead. I'm gonna--oh, wait, that was a compliment. Phew, glad I didn't do anything rash.

  2. Wow. If this nasty piece of work is headed to DC, I'm moving. Sort of reminds me of the baseball game I watched last night. The score box: TB vs Nats. Trust me, we've already had enough of TB around here. We've already succumbed.

    1. Well, for what it's Werth, the TB might bypass your district to see D.C. in Atlanta.

  3. I was going to Photoshop you some terrible tuberculosis-with-prosthetic-legs fan art, but it turned out that slapping multiple legs on tuberculosis cells was going to take longer than ten minutes.