Yesterday I went for a big long walk to clear my head and I think I stayed out too long because today I've been sneezing and coughing and bringing up nasty green spit.
I took the cough bottle and sat having a good old wheeze to myself. One of the sweaty metallers called round about something or other, I'm not sure what, but I made him kiss my hand, and he asked if he could lick my fingers.
I told him no.
He fucked off after that and Fabian Wildman told me he thinks there's trouble brewing.
I asked him to fetch me some scissors because I needed to defend myself in my weak state.
He reminded me that's why we have a big mean dog, and I reminded him that Battle Cat was a gentle soul and liked to play and not bite anyone.
He relented and brought me scissors, but he took hours to find them. In the end I refused them because I don't really trust myself with them.
I boked in a glass beside my bed and threw it out my window onto the street below. Nasty business being sick.
