gonzomax had this nasty flu that knocked him in bed for a week. I think I got it as well. I was feeling rather well a couple of days ago and just had a silly little cough. The cough has turned into a flemmy mess. That flemmy mess seems to have dissipated today a lot, though.
In any case, in the name of Hal Briston, I’d like the Dope cure please.
Thanks very much.
Are you and gonzomax related?
Oh, Dope cure: dunk your head in a bucket of honey past your eyes, but not quite covering your nosterils. Have someone carefully pour cough syrup (the stuff you can only get behind the counter) into your nose.
Hm. Well, I played it safe and ate a lemon through my nose. After burning that can only be described as the burning from more than 999 suns, I feel better today.
For the low introductory price of $89.99 plus shipping and handling, I’ll send you a prayer cloth dipped in a secret blend of eleven herbs and spices. Upon receiving the cloth, go into a darkened room, kneel on the cloth and transfer all your worldly assets to me. I guarantee healing at that point.
I knew it. I knew it. I’ve got no excuse, other than I was driven mad with lust.
Bad Trevor.
My dad, the wise man, once said: “son, if you’ve seen two, you’ve seen them all. You want to see them all just to make sure.” Wiser things have never been said.