tooth soup

Okay, alright. I admit it. Finally, after what seems like weeks of watching the shadows, ducking between doorways, and hiding with my brim way down, they found me.

I’m sick.

My co-workers in the terminal room have been sick on rotation for what seems like a few months now. My house mates and their respective boyfriends have been sick (twice, in one case), my girlfriend has been sick, and my workmates at Dymocks have been sick all within the last couple of months or so. Somehow I had managed to dodge a million-billion tiny bacterial bullets in this period of time. Sadly, one of those little bastards has wormed its way into my body and is currently making me feel quite wretched as I sit at this computer and wait for the end of one of the forty or so computational runs that I have planned for today.

So in the meantime, let’s talk about the Melbourne shooting. The news stories go that a young lady was struggling with a man that was dragging her, with a gun, through the middle of Melbourne. Three people tried to assist, all three of which were shot, with one (Brendan Keilar) dying from his injuries. So the question is, if you had been walking to work that day, would you have tried to help? If no, why not? If yes, how?

_{There was a rippling of small sucker pops, as well as a sliding sound of wet-on-wet movement. And underneath that, the sound phlegm-filled breathing.}

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