The Patron Saint of Plagues by Barth Anderson. Near future medical thriller. 2060s. Mexico is the most powerful nation on Earth under the Holy Renaissance dictatorship. A bioweapon is released. CDC dude to the rescue. Just futuristic enough to be cool (wetware, skycycles) but still familiar enough to resonate with those of us who live in 2006.
Sickness. Plague. Okay, it’s just a cold, but I rarely get sick and I’ve been lying on the couch all weekend surrounded by used Kleenex, crossword puzzles, trash magazines (fued between Heather and Denise!) and just feeling miserable. You can’t get good cold medicine anymore either. You want anything with pseudoephedrine you gotta submit to a strip search and sign your name in blood. Thanks a lot stupid meth-heads!!
My pinkie fingernail. If you remember the crushing incident from a couple of weeks ago, you’ll know why my left pinkie is all disgusting and discolored. So I’m gonna paint my nails black and cover that sucker up! Genius!