Shite yourself silly

I am mildly ill.

What a terrible thing it is, to be unwell!

At least you've got your health, they say. At least you've got your health.

How right you are, oul' dolls of the world! I fucking hate being sick.

For years I was immune to all manner of contagion.

I could eat my dinner off a filthy toilet seat and be none the worse for it.

I was never off work.

I successfully defeated the AIDS virus in a head-to-head (a bit like Innerspace, except I beat up AIDS with my bare hands and a hurley stick, inside myself, in the future).

I was the picture of health.

Alas, this is no longer so.

I am mildly ill, and an insufferable bastard for it.

At regular periods I make bleak forecasts about my future, mostly for my own amusement.

-Call the Montreal Canadiens to make me a "Get well message"... I've not got long.

-End the suffering!

-I don't feel well.

-Will I ride a bicycle again?

Etc, etc.

I am mildly ill.

And yet, isn't diarrhea one of the more satisfying ailments? The body expelling its attacker in a thunderous, merciless flush!

Get out, ya cunt!

It's not that bad at all, now.

Why would you even bother with that Immodium shite? Bung you up, who fucking wants that? Crane drivers should take the fucking day off if they have diarrhea.

I went to buy some, anyway. With mixed feelings, I add!

I took it to the check-out at the chemist's, and the wee man behind the counter goes:

-Diarrhea, aye?

-Yeah...

-Fucking shiting your brains out!

This was odd for many reasons, but mostly because it's all French about here, and I didn't expect anyone around here to speak like that.

It was odd too because I'd never heard anyone use that turn of phrase before. So awkward and vicious. It didn't sound right.

This was getting very like a bad dream, and so I began to snivel.

Between gasps and stammered breaths I said haughtily to myself, and to anyone within earshot, "What an odd fellow!"

-I am in the Odd Fellows!

-W-what?!

-I am in a fraternal organization called "The Odd Fellows Club"

-What?

-They're a bit like the Masons...

-Oh...

-But not as secretive! Ha-ha. Just a wee joke. We raise money for charity and that! It's good. I enjoy it, anyway.

-Good... Good. OK. Bye!

As I walked out of the shop I heard him say "So it's quite apt that you think me an odd fellow, seeing as I'm in the Odd Fellows!" And he chuckled, and chuckled.

I ran back home as fast as I could without shiting myself.

What an odd fellow, I mused. What an Odd Fellow. The Odd Fellows. How very odd indeed. His wee joke wasn't even funny, I couldn't understand how he thought it could even be a wee joke. It was just a statement.

He looked normal, even handsome. That made it worse. I hope he doesn't have a family. He's too odd. It wouldn't be fair on them.

The Odd Fellows are actively involved in a variety of civic and philanthropic efforts on a local, national and international scale, I later read.

"T-t-that's pretty impressive!" I shouted to an empty house, sitting on the bog, fucking shiting my brains out.

Will I ever ride a bicycle again?