t3chmonkey

"Hello, my name is Adam, and I am ill."
"Hello Adam" the crowd in front of me flatly sang back.
The sweat from my palms farted against the podium and slid my hands down the laminated particle board. Was it the fever or that I was nervous?
"I've uh, been sick for about four days now. I guess it's a cold, I don't really know, I won't go to have it looked at."
Their heads nodded to the beat of my familiar opening.
"You know, I just have trouble admitting that I might be anything less than invulnerable."
I was blank beyond that. I had forgotten the rest of my speech. As I did the deer in the headlights bit, the crowd amused itself by coughing in waves, in sections, back and forth, one cough calling another.
" I uh....*cough** cough* guess I have to deal with the fact that I am not Superman. I'm no match for airborne viruses..."
I kept taking, probably too fast. Maybe the fever slowed me down some.
I couldn't make myself believe what I was saying. I had fallen from three story trees, been hit by speeding cars, taken the hardest knocks that a person could possibly get back up from, and to think that I played bitch to something finer than knuckle hair? No, I don't think so.
Come to think of it, I don't feel that bad at all. The only reason why I'm hot is because I'm stuffed in a tiny little room with all these pansies who are group hugging on the fact that they're weak.
Not me.
I'm not like them.
The poor, sick bastards.
*Cough*
*Cough*