The Fretful Mother's Blog

Generally speaking, I’ve harbored fears of the traces of anthrax that could be found on my mail. Crackpots are always sending anthrax to government workers, and some of their hatred could seep out onto my mail. I think there was one postal worker who died of anthrax poisoning after handling the mail. I’m not even really sure what happens when you have anthrax poisoning, but I’m imagining it’s like the Ebola virus.
You probably have convulsions and then start bleeding from your eyes. They probably lock you up in one of those solitary-confinement rooms and have robots treat your symptoms. The anthrax probably eats off your skin, revealing fat deposits and swallowed chewing gum. It’s at that point that you truly regret the poor lifestyle choices you’ve made. If only I’d worked out more and placed my gum in the trash receptacle where it belongs. Then this robot wouldn’t be subjected to my gluttony in my final hours.
For this reason, if nothing else, I’m now terrified of the new brand of mail I’m receiving. In my new position at work, the letters to the editor are now directed to me. Right now I’m staring at a hand-addressed envelope with my name underlined several times. It almost looks like a psychopath wanted to make sure the letter could never fall into the hands of an innocent bystander. What’s in this letter? It can’t be good.
Maybe I should put off opening it until I’ve worked out better. Plus, I haven’t been eating very healthy lately and I’ve probably swallowed gum within the last seven years. At the very least, I should submit a request for a CDC anti-biological warfare suit so I can perform my job duties. I can probably even dig up some latex gloves and a SARS mask. You can never be too safe.

This entry was posted on January 11, 2010 at 10:42 am and is filed under Fear of the Day. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.