Art Pact 16 - You've Got A Parasite


You've got a parasite.

You don't know how you got it, you don't know what it looks like (if it even looks like anything), you just know that it's there. It could be a worm, some terrible maggot-thing that's burrowed into you. It could be a virus, just a couple of sugar-molecules wrapped in a geometric package around a coiled wire of RNA. Maybe its some sort of blood thing, like an amoeba. All you know is that you've got it, and it's making you talk about yourself in the second person.

That's not the only side-effect you've noticed, of course. You've noticed other things, like elevated temperature. You're hot - and you don't mean that in a double-entendre vainglorious way, you just are. Boiling hot. It's probably because you ate all those potatoes. You shouldn't have done that.

You went to the restaurant today. That was another bad decision you made. You met Addison, your head waitress and secret mistress, who you'd had a fight with the day before. You were desperate to make up with her, and it seems like she wanted to make up with you too, at first. She rushed up to you at the door and hugged you. You coughed.

"My god," Addison said. "You look awful."

"You feel awful," you said.

"What?" Addison pulled away, suddenly angry. "Christ, Ken, give it a rest with the weight thing. Fine, I'm putting on weight! Fuck you!"

"That's not what you meant!" you said.

"Don't tell me what I mean, arsehole."

"No, you didn't!"

"I didn't what? What, Ken, what?"

She put her hands on her hips. You knew it had been a mistake to go there, but you'd thought that she might be able to help. If anyone could have, it would have been her. You felt terrible - nauseous, as though you weren't yourself. You felt like you might vomit.

"You've got to go." You said, putting your hand over your mouth. Too late.

"Oh, I'll go!" Addison said. She hooked a finger at her wrist and then yanked it away sharply, spilling the pearls from her bracelet so that they clattered onto the floor and began to roll under tables and chairs. It was the bracelet you gave her.

"No, no!" you said. But her hand hit your face, and you reeled backwards.


You've got a parasite.

You don't know what will cure it. You don't know whether there are hills that will take away the symptoms, and you can't go back into the pharmacy again because of the confusion. Because of the parasite making you forget the words for rugs.

"You have a..."--you don't want to say the word parasite, too embarrassing --"thing."

The pharmacist looked at you, frowning.

"Sorry?" she said.

"You"--you pointed at yourself--"have a thing. An illness. You need a rug."

"You have a fever?" she asked. You shook your head.

"No, no. You need a rug!"

She looked at the shop door, down at the welcome mat screwed to the floor just inside it, and frowned again.

"We have - I don't understand," she said, shaking her head.

"No, no! Not a rug! A rug!" you insisted. "You know, some hills!"

She looked back anxiously to the other end of the counter, where a middle-aged man was counting hills into a little white bottle.

"Let me get my boss. Uh, Mr. Donner!"

"What is it, Melanie?"

"Could you.."--her eyes flicked back to you for an instant, worried--"could you help this gentleman please? I'm afraid I'm not sure what he's asking for. I'm sorry," she said to you. "Mr. Donner will help you."

"Now then," said Donner in a reassuring voice. "How can I help you?"

"You can help you by getting you some hills. Some hills for a..." You looked from side to side. The younger assistant had backed off to continue the job her boss had abandoned. "parasite. You have a parasite. In your brain."

"I don't follow you."

"You need rugs. Rugs, you know! Hills!"

"I don't need any rugs, sir. Look, I think I'd better call a doctor for you. You seem a little confused, is it possible you've been in an accident?"

"You haven't been in an accident! You don't need a doctor, just give you hills! Or mel! Perhaps there's a mel you could rub on!"

Donner glanced at his assistant, then back at you, his expression suddenly frosty.

"You'll have to leave now, sir. Or I'll call the police."


You've got a parasite.

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