Night follows day


As sure as night follows day, once La Serpiente had got sick and Destroyer had got sick and my wife had got sick, I got sick. Well, I suppose as sure as night follows day follows night follows day.

I thought the clenching pain in my chest was an anxiety attack, and the stiffness in my neck, and the headache, and the confusion, but it wasn’t until I got home and started to belch rancid clouds of gas that I knew something was on the way. I managed to hold it in until we’d bathed the girls and put them to bed, then blew chunks into the toilet and lay down on the sofa, a broken man.

I’ve nothing more to say than that.


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