January 29, 2007

• Bugs and Drugs hit home

  2 days ago…

  *Klaxon sirens*
  Voice over loudspeaker: ALL HANDS ON DECK! WE HAVE INCOMING FOREIGN INVADERS IN THE NASOPHARYNX!

  Cut to view of Central Command:
  “Sir,
  we have spotty initial reports returning via the CD4+ specialists that
  our killer T’s have engulfed and identified the invaders!”

  “Good, lieutenant! Send the first batch of intel to Camp Thymus to train the baby B’s how to fight this enemy!”

  “Already on it, sir. I’ve also sent a request to the Marrow to draft more baby B’s and send them to Thymus for training, sir.”

  “Good work. Any word on whether our vaccine training drill is going to help us out with this enemy?”

  “So far, reports are not good, sir. It looks like the invader has picked up our intel and changed tactics, sir.”

  “Damn. So we’ll have to build our response from scratch. Keep me posted, son.”

  “Yes, sir.”
  
  Cut
  away to a lymph node, where a squad of large, war-weary CD8 macrophages
  are passing a joint. Staff Sergeant T-CD4+, a burly veteran decorated
  in scores of brightly colored antigens, comes charging in.

  “WHAT
  THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?! GET OFF YOUR PANSY ASSES AND GET
  INTO THE BLOODSTREAM! THERE’S A WAR GOING ON OUT THERE!”
  
  One of the big guys cracks up in uncontrollable giggles, while another smiles lazily at the sergeant.
  “Mellow out, sarge. It’s another false alarm, and if we go out there
  and start busting up infected cells, the Suppressors are going to throw
  us in the brig.”

  Another CD8 takes the spliff, sucks in a huge
  coelful, and slowly expels pink smoke. “Yeah, man, remember that time
  when the dumbasses at intel were screaming ‘EBOLA! EBOLA!’ and it
  turned out to be troops from our ‘cillin allies? Boy did the
  Suppressors beat us down for that one. The body had to be flooded with
  antihistamine to keep the overexcited noobs from killing us all–AND we
  lost a good ally, permanently!”

  A medium CD8 guffaws. “‘Intelligence’ my ass, those morons can’t tell peanuts from polio!”

  “Don’t
  you smart-mouth me, you pink-tutu-wearing candy-assed flower girls! And
  what the hell are you smoking! That smells like Benadryl!”

  The
  sergeant grabs the smallest CD8 by his cell membrane and screams in his
  face, “Where the hell did you little bastards get Benadryl?”

  The
  CD8 squirms uncomfortably, shame in his mitochondria as he admits that
  they found a stash between some fat cells. This enrages the sergeant
  more. The biggest CD8 smirks. “Good luck finding all the stashes;
  there’s a lot of fat in this body.” The sergeant slaps the CD8 across
  the face. “Get your asses geared up and into the bloodstream NOW, or I
  will personally lyse each one of you pussies.”

  to be continued…

  -J
  

  • 11:19 pm
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