Curse of the Mucus King

During a slight pause in the hunt for the man of my dreams, a slight irritation begin to invade my throat. It started as a tickle, that thing that you try to clear with noise and facial gestures. As the week progressed, it became a pest, something that continues to hang around no matter how much you treat it. So I allowed it to hang around, keeping me company while I criss-cross the country after Monsieur. Then week two arrived and my guest would not leave. In fact, it chose to take up room in my lungs.

My guest, who we will name irritation, started to run around at night without any consideration of my feelings. Irritation took up company with someone I did not approve of called, the Mucus King. They began to party into the wee hours of the morning. It seems that their prime hours were between 1 to 4 a.m. At times, I would have violent productive coughs trying to kick them out of my lungs but they hung on. The more I coughed,  the harder they partied. No cough syrup or drops would suppress them. Because of these two, I must remain upright in my bed or as of late, my couch because of the retching cough and thick phlegm. By day break, I’m worn out and they have subsided to rest until nightfall when they’ll kick up their heels again.

So now my quest is two-fold. First, for the man that I’m chasing across the country. Second, to rid my body of the two, non-paying residents inside.

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