The Super Killers Ball

I’m an anti-vaxxer and Covid denier. A mighty proud one to boot. So much so, that last month I stood in the General Election. I polled 211 votes but would have polled more if people weren’t afraid to be associated with me. People are scared these days you see, afraid to speak their real minds, express their real feelings; and that’s the greatest conspiracy of all! Vaccinations and the conjured up Covid disease repress the people, they’re designed to keep ‘em quiet. People are conditioned to believing the status quo, if they weren’t, then who knows how many votes I would have polled? The Government is hiding the truth, people are afraid to rock the boat. Masks mask the real agenda of a corrupt system. To dumb the people down! To deny our freedoms and right to express our views.

I decided not to go to the cops, what good would they do anyway? Besides, the package looked too interesting. It called to me. This was not the standard package of fun or hate mail I usually receive. I put on some rubber gloves, goggles, and mask. You can’t take too many chances. You need to protect yourself; you just never know. I decided to open it in the bathroom, to contain any mess that might be inside the beige envelope. I grabbed some scissors from the kitchen, and on the way to the bathroom, I stopped by the Laundry to put a peg over my nose. Fully protected I gently prised open the envelope. Some type of fluid gushed and spewed from inside. It was gelatinous and looked like a bodily fluid of some description, multicoloured, it was speckled with green, red and white streaks. Even with my safety peg, I could still smell its obnoxiousness. The fluid dripped from my gloved fingers onto the floor, spreading and smearing itself along the bathroom tiles, making them slippery.

Besides the liquid, there was another package housed inside the envelope. It was sealed within a ziplocked sandwich bag. I pulled it out, rinsed the outside under the hot water tap of the basin. Once it was completely clear of gelatinous gunk, I dried it off with toilet paper. I sprayed it with some bathroom disinfectant then gingerly opened the bag. Folded neatly within the sandwich bag was an invitation.

Bertrand Harmer Jnr

The VAPPIDAF Academy cordially invites you to

The annual Super Killer Ball & Award Ceremony 

23rd January 2021 

York Valley Landfill 

8pm till late

HAZMAT optional but recommended.

RSVP not required – Transport provided.

My first reaction was, for fucks sake, that’s tonight! Thanks for the advanced notice! Then an avalanche of questions hit me. What the hell was the VAPPIDAF Academy? Where was I supposed to find a HAZMAT suit, and since when do they have function centres at Refuse sites? It was crazy, and I quickly put it down as a ridiculous hoax, typical of the liberal bullshit that gets propagated these days. There’re some real crazies out there.

Looking around the bathroom I decided against having a shower, I washed up in the laundry instead, walked to the kitchen, grabbed a couple of beers then turned-on cable news. It had been a shit house week, full of drama and it felt good to collapse into my chair and sink a few beers. It was seven o’clock when I heard a knock on the door. I must have fallen asleep as the TV had flicked onto standby. I walked toward the door, peering out the lounge window to see who it was. I couldn’t see anyone, but spied a big black limo parked across the street. That was weird.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Okay okay, I’m coming alright.”

I opened the door.

No one was there. I poked my head out of the doorway, looked around. Nope, there was no one there. The fuckin’ kids from next door I thought. I slammed the door shut and walked back toward my chair.

Knock, knock, knock.

The knock seemed more urgent, more intense this time.

“Go away you little shits, or I’ll give you a clip behind the ears!”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Right!” I yelled, storming back to the door.

I pulled the door open and prepared to unleash both barrels of my lungs, scream at the kids, but once again there was no one there.

‘Hello,’ said a croaky wet voice.

‘Wha…wha…what? Who’s there?’

“It’s me, Silly! It’s me.”

“Well, where are you, I can’t see you?”

“Ha-ha, Silly. No, you can’t see me. But I am here, believe me.”

“Is this a joke? I know…I know…, this is some kind of prank! Right? There’s a mini speaker and camera somewhere around here. I searched the door frame, padding the wood trying to locate a bug of sorts. I couldn’t find anything.

“Ha-ha Silly,” repeated the voice. “It’s no joke, c’mon, hurry up or we’ll be late!”

“Late for what?” I snapped.

“The Ball, the Super Killers Ball. I’ve come to pick you up! I’ve got your suit in the back of the limo, you can change on the way.”

“I’m not going with you. I mean, I can’t even see you. This is crazy.”

“Ha-ha, yes there is a lot of craziness going around at the moment. But I don’t think you understand, you need to come with me. You must.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, Silly, it’s a reality. You will be coming with me, now close the door and follow me. You will not be harmed, and I will return you home safe and sound, just after midnight. I promise. What do you think Cinderella? Shall I escort you to the ball? C’mon, it will be fun.”

There was an unspoken gravity to the voice and its tone. It was a voice from the ages. A voice conveying latent misery and pain. I reluctantly followed.

“I will be your driver and host this evening, the voice said through the intercom. Let me introduce myself, I am Cory Za. But you can call me Cory, common old Cory, ha-ha. Tonight’s going to be fun, and extremely exciting.”  

“Are we going to the York Valley Landfill site?” I asked, struggling to get into my HAZMAT suit.

 “That’s right.”

“But there’s nothing there! Why would there be a Ball at a rubbish dump?”

“He, he, he,” the voice chuckled loudly, “you really are a silly man. You crack me up Bert! Can I call you Bert? I mean, I don’t want to be presumptuous!”

“Yes,” I answered, “you can call me Bert.”

Thirty minutes later we arrived at a locked gate.

“Don’t worry,” Cory called from the front. He backed the limo up. “A useless old padlock and chain won’t stop us.”

He reversed for 150 metres then changed gears and slammed the accelerator to the floor. I didn’t think a wheel spin was possible in a Limo, but it is. We smashed through the gate with a thump and a crash, all at 80kmph.

“Ye ha,” I heard Colin yell, as I bounced up and down in the back, safely cocooned within a full HAZMAT.

Two minutes later we stopped.

“Please follow me Bert,” Cory said. “Follow my driver’s cap.”

I watched for a moment as an empty driver’s cap bobbed its way across the ground, then followed. The caps height was about 185cm.

“You’re tall,” I said.

“I can be big or small, good or bad,” he answered, “all depending on the situation. All depending on the person.”

We walked deep into the rubbish dump. He stopped at an oven and opened the door.

“In there,” Cory pointed, “this is the entranceway into the Ballroom. C’mon hop to it, you don’t want to be late.”

“You’re joking, I’m not going in there. This is some kind of joke.”  

“Do you see me laughing, Bert?”

“I don’t see you at all! Just a $2 shop drivers cap!”

“Ha, ha, ha, yes, that’s right. So, there’s no point in me going first then to show you it’s safe, because you wouldn’t be able to see me.”

“That’s right, but I’m still not going in there. There’s no way.”

“Well, why don’t you just have a peek in the oven door? Just poke your head in there, make sure there are no nasties to harm you. If you are worried about me, don’t be, I got you here safely didn’t I, and what you can’t see, can’t hurt you, can it? That’s what you believe isn’t it?”

I thought about it for a moment. Cory’s question reverberated in my brain. What you can’t see, can’t hurt you. Was that true? I wasn’t sure, I was torn. My head said no, my instincts said yes. But one thing was true, Cory did get me here safely. I decided to have a cautious look.

I planted my feet firmly on the soft ground, held the door open with my right arm; it was a big oven, probably a commercial cooker used for catering or in a restaurant. I bent over, peered inside…nothing. Just a greasy oven; then I felt a heavy push, my right arm gave way, my legs lifted, and I fell. I fell for what seemed an age, tumbling head down, down, spiralling through the greasy oven toward the bowels of the dump.

As I free fell, I screamed. “Cory you bastard!”

“It’s okay,” he answered unexpectedly. “I’m right beside you. I wouldn’t be much of a host, if I didn’t look after you, made sure you arrived safely, would I? You’re our VIP guest. Hang on, we’re about to land.”

I felt my fall slow, suddenly soft blue rubbish bags surrounded me, padding my descent. Eventually, I came to a standstill on a bed of spongy blue.

I heard applause.

“He’s here,” excited voices cried. “He’s here! Yay!”

I looked around, saw nothing. “What the fuck?”

“You’re at the head table,” Cory whispered in my ear, “come, follow me. We are sitting together.”

I followed the prancing cap to a round of great applause, invisible to the eyes, deafening for the ears. We reached a massive block of polystyrene.

“Bert, sit here, quick, the award ceremony is about to begin.”

The moment I took my seat, a high-pitched chorus began, it was loud, a fanfare of sorts. I noticed I was sweating; it must have been at least 50 degrees under the dump. My eyes starting to adjust to the dim light, I looked around, nothing. But then gradually coming into focus, I could see who was playing the fanfare. Mosquitos! A swarm of Mosquitos? At least a thousand of them, probably many more. All zizzing as loudly as they could, all in tune, making an horrific irritating cacophony of high range irritation and agony.

A moment later, it stopped. Great applause ripped through the dump again.  

“Welcome,” a great booming voice said.

“Welcome to you all.”  

“Welcome to the Virus’s, to the bacterial infections, to the parasites, fungi, the poisons, and of course our great friends the predators, the venomous and downright dangerous!

The Academy welcomes one and all. Tonight friends, we have a special guest, a guest of honour. Someone representing the Humans. Please be upstanding and give a big round of applause to Bertrand Harmer Jnr.”

Great applause once again ripped through the underground waste.

“What’s going on?” I asked Cory.

“It’s the Annual Ball Silly, its where we gather to celebrate the pain and misery we have inflicted, the death and despair we ravage on Humankind. But shush the President of the Academy is still speaking.”

“2020 has been a year to celebrate.”

More applause and cheers erupted.

“A halcyon year, not seen since the efforts of H1n1 in 1918 have we had such a great year. Please stand up H1 and take a bow.”

Another round of massive applause and cheers erupted. This time it seemed to go on for an age.

“H1N1 is one of the Academy favourites, it’s revered by everyone. An icon,” Cory said.

“This is so unfair,” I complained to Cory, slowly feeling a little more comfortable. “Everyone can see me, but I can’t see anything. I can only hear.”

“I’m so sorry,” he replied, “silly me. We were in such a rush to take our seats I forgot to tell you about the magnifier on your HAZMAT Goggles. Can you feel a switch on the left side of your head mask?”


“Well, when you flick that, it turns on a magnifier, you should be able to see everything then. You’ll also need to flick the switch on the right-hand side of your head. That’s the flashlight. Then you’ll be able to see everything. I’m so sorry, not much of a host, am I? Silly me.”

I flicked both switches and couldn’t believe my eyes.

I was surrounded by gruesome-looking blobs and shapes, some big, some small. There was an assortment of shapes, sizes, and colours. So many colours. Then, it struck me, the shapes looked like liquorice all sorts, particularly the many spikey shaped ones. Randomly, the thought of having loved liquorice all sorts when I was a kid, bolted into my consciousness.

I continued to scan the room. Argh, I screamed loudly. A fucking shark, a giant fucking shark. God help me! Oh my God, sitting right next to the Shark on either side were a massive Lion and gargantuan crocodile. What the fuck?

The President of the Academy stopped her speech and looked over her spectacles, staring straight at me. She asked with a condescending tone, “is everything alright?”

“Sorry,” Cory interjected. “My fault, my bad, Madam President. I forgot to explain to Bertrand that he would need to turn off his magnifier when looking at the carnivore table. Silly me, apologies everyone.”

All the shapes, all the blobs, all the animals, everything in the room erupted in laughter. “Silly Cory,” they all mocked lovingly.

“Okay okay,” the president commanded. “Without any further interruptions, let’s move on to the first award. This award is for Parasite of the Year.

Polite applause.

The nominees are:

  • Tapeworm
  • Roundworm
  • The Australian Paralysis Tick
  • Scabies, and
  • Plasmodium

Now, please give these a great round of applause for the misery they all have infected on man.”

Cory whispered in my ear. “This is a no brainer. Plasmodium will win. It always does. The others don’t stand a chance.”


“Yeah, you’d know it as Malaria – it kills millions, and has done so for centuries, it’s an Academy favourite. A darling, an icon. It won a lifetime achievement award a few years back. But it’s getting older now, its star is dimming, in a few years’ time, who knows? Then the other parasites might have a chance.”

“And the winner is… Plasmodium.”

Huge cheers erupted.

“Well done Plas,” the President congratulated, with a big warm smile on her face. “Amazing effort as always. Now, as the Academy agreed at the AGM, the only speech this year will be for the supreme award, Super Killer of the Year, this will allow more time for the dance afterwards. So, let’s move onto the next Category. Fungi of the Year.”

“This is a very minor category, but they do their best,” Cory whispered.

“The nominees are:

  • Little white
  • Skull Cap
  • Fools Mushroom
  • Death Cap, and last, but not least,  
  • Web Cap

And the winner is… Fools Mushroom for its achievements in Kidney and Liver failure.”

Polite applause followed.

The next category is “Deadliest Animal.”

I looked over at the Carnivore table, sitting there drinking blood and tucking into huge chunks of meat sat a Shark, a Lion, Tiger, Wolf, and a Crocodile arguing with a snippy snappy Piranha. On the table next to that, a Snake, an Elephant, Rhino and Hippo were chatting, it looked like they could be sharing a joke. Sitting opposite them sat a giant Jelly Fish, an unkempt but on trend Cape Buffalo and an uptight Scorpion who looked as though he was angry enough to lash out and swish its tail at the smug snake sitting next to it. At the end of the table a very bored spider sat spinning a web to pass the time.

“The Mozzies’ will win, they always do,” Cory said. They work in collaboration with Plas. The most successful Super Killer partnership ever!

Sure enough, the Mosquitoes won. Then, following that, Ricin won Poison of the Year, despite stiff competition from Tetrodotoxin and Botox.

“I never knew Botox was deadly,” I said.

“Oh yes, Cory stated, “Botox contains a deadly neurotoxin called botulinum. It’s the same thing that causes Botulism. Botox attacks neurotransmitters so muscles are unable to relax. So, there you go Bert, never kiss a girl with fat lips or wonky eyebrows!”

fillers please – not vacinations

The Cancer of the Year award was interesting, it was a tight 3-way battle between lung Cancer, Bowel Cancer and Breast Cancer. Evidently, the hot favourite was lung Cancer, but the Academy, somewhat controversially gave its nod to Bowel Cancer. For the first time that evening murmur’s and whispers swept the room. 

“It’s a lifestyle thing,” Cory explained. “The Academy feels there is now more upside in Bowel Cancer. Man eats the wrong food, and despite the efforts of our friends in the Tobacco Industry; Africa and Asia are the only growth areas for smoking. Lung Cancer is a fading star, a dying ember of what it once was. Soon, it will disappear like a puff of smoke. See what I did there Bert? Next year, we hope to build on our relationship with the secondary food producers.”

“Yes,” I sighed, “feeling sick. So, are you a member of the Academy?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” he replied proudly. 

“So, how do you kill, I groaned?” 

“Oh, I don’t kill. Well, not usually anyway. I’m one of the few non-killers who are permitted to join the Academy as an honorary member. We get in because of our efforts to fuck-up humanity. Last year, I caused $8 billion damage to the world’s economy, there’s not many in this room, if any, that can say that! It’s something I’m immensely proud of. Whole industries have been designed around me.”

“So, what are you then?”   

“I’m magnificently insignificantly unimportant, but known and hated by all men, and equally loved by the Academy. A darling if you like, a doyen, everybody’s favourite. I’m the Common Cold Bert. The innocuous common cold. Surely you know me now. Are we still friends?”

I ignored him.

“Now everyone, the President bellowed, “we’ve come to the last few categories, the biggies, the ones you have all been waiting for.”

I could feel excitement building up. Bugs, viruses, and bacteria started chanting, bobbing up and down, hardly containing themselves. The atmosphere was electric and contagious.

Newcomer of the year went to Covid 19. Covid received a standing ovation and rapturous applause which didn’t die way for at least three minutes.

“Settle everyone, settle down”, the President interrupted. “It’s now time for the supreme award, The Super Killer of the year! Quiet everyone please, while I read out the nominees:

  • Diarrhea – last year Diarrhea killed over 1.57 million people – an outstanding achievement, continuing an amazing run of success.”

Clearly, Diarrhea was a popular nominee judging by the applause, “always thereabouts,” Cory told me. 

  • “Tuberculous – not quite the same potency, but still 1.20 million deaths! Great effort as always TB.”

Polite applause followed.

  • “Malaria, – 600,000! Another solid performance.”

Once again polite applause followed.

  • “HIV/Aids – 1 million! Still going strong and particularly active in Africa.”

It was another popular nominee which received wild applause.

  • “Covid 19 – well over 1 million and still climbing, in fact a human dies every 13 seconds because of Covid!”

The dump erupted again, chants, songs and cheers rang out amongst the trashed waste of humanity. It struck me then, that this was the perfect place for an award ceremony like this. The Super Killers were taking the piss out of humanity, feeding on their wanton decadence and indifference.

“Settle down everyone, Settle. SETTLE,” the President yelled, struggling to be heard over the din. “Before I announce the winner, I would like to make a special honourable recognition to Meningitis, who cracked the 300,000 mark for the first-time last year. Great effort Men, well done. Everyone, come on – please give Men a hand.”

The crowd responded.

“Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for – Super Killer of the Year goes to – wait for it – wait for it… Covid 19!”

The wave of noise nearly bowled me over it was so loud. I felt the flimsy ground beneath shake and vibrate, blue bags all around me quivered. Beside me, Cory started to dance which started a chain reaction. Within seconds every single cell, spore and living being in the dump was jiving to the death of over a million people. I was lost for words.

“C’mon Silly,” Cory insisted looking over at me. “Join in – you’re one of us now.”

I shook my head in denial.

“Oh yes you are,” he answered with a big smile. “And you’re in for a huge surprise!”

In stark contrast, when Covid 19 came to the podium to collect his award and make his speech, you could have heard one of the HEP laced syringes lying around drop to the filthy ground.

“I would like to thank the Academy for this honour,” he started. “In many ways, I got lucky. I was in the right place at the right time. I was lucky to have some fabulous collaborators. There are too many to name individuals, but to all the caged market animals of Wuhan, I say thank you. In fact, my success comes in a long history of collaboration between animals and disease. This is the way of the future.”

Speaking like a young leader, he held undying attention and affection, all for his amazing efforts on inflicting dying infection. A real young gun!

“As animals lose their territories, as drugs and vaccinations ravage many members of the Academy, we need to fight back, we must fight back. And, by collaborating, by working together we can finally achieve our destiny, to do God’s work and finally rid the planet of Humankind. God bless you all and good luck in your fight. Thank you.”    

The dump broke out into a wild frenzy again.

Eventually, the chaos stopped, the President calling for silence which was a long time coming. “Quiet please, quiet, please. Now, we do have one final award this evening. An especially important award. It’s a Lifetime Achievement Award. This award will take the recipient straight into the Super Killer Hall of Fame. 

Without wasting any more time, everyone, put your hands together for Bertrand Harmer Jnr, our newfound human friend. Bertrand, please come to the podium. Don’t be shy.”

I hesitated then froze.

Cory pushed me toward the podium, “you have to accept,” he prompted. “Look around you, within this room are beings responsible for more human deaths than there are actual people currently living on the planet. I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but do you want to join those that have gone before?”

The crowd started chanting, “Bertrand, Bertrand, Bertrand!”

The throng was on the precipice between frenzy and delirium. Cory was right, it would be wise to accept.

“Bertrand, Bertrand, Bertrand!”

When I reached the podium, the President wrapped her arm over my shoulder. “We are so proud of you,” she whispered.

She addressed the audience again, “okay quieten down everyone, that’s enough now. On behalf of us all, it’s so great to have you here Bertrand. You know, we’ve been following you for a while now and your stance towards vaccination is music to our ears.”

The mosquitoes broke into an impromptu chorus. The gathered hoard thumped up and down on whatever hard surface they could find. Thump, thump, thump, the noise percolating through the space, thump, thump, thump, like turbulent blood flow pumping in my ears.

The President waved at everyone to be quiet, “simmer down, come on simmer down now. Right. Just to let you know Bertrand, Measles and Polio are really looking forward to meeting you soon, to express their personal thanks about your views on vaccines. You and people like you have enabled minor breakouts, which they hope can grow into something much bigger.”  

“And, in addition to that,” the President continued, “your denial of Covid 19 and refusal to wear a mask has helped us in more ways than what you know. Thank you, Bertrand. You are contributing brilliantly to our efforts.”

“Thump, thump, thump, Bertrand, Bertrand.”

As I looked around the room, I felt uncomfortable, I felt sick, dirty. Then, in an instant, I felt the mood in the room darken, the chanting subtly changing from praise to mocking. “Silly, Silly, Silly, Silly, Silly…”

The President saved me.

“Enough, enough already! We have a guest, and this is not how we treat guests, is it? Now, let me finish. I would like to make a speech on your behalf Bertrand, if I may? I am sure you are quite taken back and probably lost for words right now.”

I hung my head in resignation.

“Now, I’m sorry to tell you this Bertrand, but you are accepting this award on behalf of all mankind! You will have to share it, I’m afraid.”

Titters, chortles, and guffaws followed.

“This year the analysts at the Academy undertook some research. They came up with some interesting data. Amazing data! Like, did you know nearly 1.5 million humans die from their own hands, or from the hands of others, every single year? They’re killing themselves and they’re killing each other. Imagine, 1 million suicides, half a million murders every year. Year in, year out, most of you here would kill for those stats, especially you Novichok! And these figures don’t include conflict or terrorism. An absolutely brilliant effort!

And, what’s even better, is that their vaccine, their antidote doesn’t work anymore. People have lost faith in it. Overall, the strength, the potency of their religion and adherence to civil order is dying. The move away from collective values toward individualism has swung the pendulum. Swung the pendulum toward us. And people like you Bertrand, are helping create that change. For humans, things revolve, not evolve. From dwelling in caves, from small family units to tribes, to villages, towns and cities, the breakdown of these units, common good, compassion and compliance has already started. Then, once it is complete my friends, it will be back to the caves for them. Back to the caves!”

“Back to the caves, back to the caves, back to the cave, silly, silly, silly.”   

I turned and fled from the podium, seeking out Cory, I demanded he take me home.

“I can’t Silly.”

“Stop calling me Silly,” I shouted, lashing out and knocking his driver’s cap to the floor.

“You’ve just proved it,” Cory answered. “Now you can’t see me.”

The next minute I felt a massive kick to my arse.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” I whimpered, “please take me home.”

“Oh no, I told you I can’t, there are some people here I want you to meet. There’s Ann Thrax, she’s a delight, oh hang on, I can see Musca flying over to say hello.”  

A fly started buzzing and circling around my head.

“Bertrand meet Musca, Musca meet Bertrand. Musca is one of the most social, well-known, and well-liked members of the Academy. He gets everywhere, a real social butterfly. Not only is he a friendly guy, but he’s also always so obliging to help others in their work. Everyone loves him.

Not me, I thought. And although I was wearing a HAZMAT suit, instinct and rote took over as I tried to wave Musca away from my face.

“That’s not very friendly,” Cory Interrupted.

“Well, neither is not taking me home!”

“I thought you were one of us,” Musca said, adding in a huff, “I think I’ll buzz off now.”

“I don’t give a rats,” I replied, “please take me home.”

“Well, that’s not very polite either! No, I can’t, I won’t take you home. Did you not read your invitation: 8 till late? It’s not late yet, and there’s still the dance to come. You don’t want to miss that.”

“You know not taking me home isn’t all that polite either, please take me home.”

“No, Silly, I can’t do that.”

“And stop calling me Silly, why do you keep calling me Silly?”

“Because that’s what you are. All humans are silly. They are destroying the very planet they live on. And when they destroy that, they destroy us too – but we have a right to live as well! They are destroying our home; we must fight back. Humans are silly because they all know what makes them sick and die yet do nothing about it. Lifestyle deaths, cardiovascular disease, cancers; kill tens of millions more people than we ever do, but they are afraid of us! W.T.F. – Silly! They spend billions upon billions on medical research but scrimp on mental health, wellbeing, simple things like exercise and nutrition. It’s just not silly, it’s absurd!

They all know an early death can largely be avoided by changing their lifestyle, diet, exercise regimes. But do they do it? No, they are far too silly, and pizza and chocolate are far too nice. Fifteen million people a year could save themselves by getting off their arses, moving away from their devices and bakeries. Don’t you think that’s silly?

I gave Cory a filthy look, turned my back, folded my arms, and ignored him. We have the right to choose I mouthed to myself.

After a few minutes, curiosity got the better of me, “so what’s so special about this dance?”

The tone of Cory’s voice gave away that he was happy I asked.

“It’s where all the business happens. Animals and Virus’s do this wonderful dance together. Viruses get together, they get it on and mutate. Their offspring are so beautiful. Some are deadly too. Bacteria get drunk over cocktails, concocting ways to resist and overcome Anti-Biotics, fondly reminiscing about the days before Penicillin.  

It’s a dance macabre if you like. Pigs and chickens giving influenza the eye, making their moves. Then, of course, the greatest fling in history happened at this dance. The Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton of the Super Killer world, from all those thousands of years ago. Plasmodium and Mosquitoes had a tryst, they got it together. And, amazingly after all these years, their relationship is still going strong. Hundreds of years ago Black death and rats also got it on. Forty years ago, Primates and HIV. The dance is where they all met.

Humans come here to dance too. Years ago, we had a cigarette manufacturer have an affair with Cancer. In the past, we’ve also had alcohol representatives. Two years ago, another human came to the dance. She is part of the reason you were invited tonight. This is the way of the future. Working with Humans, not against them. The woman was even sillier than you. And not so famous. She lived in Wuhan. And for whatever reason, she was angry, she was mistrustful of the establishment. Well, anyway she had a dance with Sar’s. The end result, of course, a beautiful baby called Covid 19. And you want to go home?” Miss all the fun?”

I hung my head again, didn’t answer.

“Besides,” Cory continued. “I know you’ve attracted a bit of attention. You have quite a few admirers wanting to do the dance with you. I think leprosy wants to discuss ways to recapture her former glory. To spread and disseminate herself back into the first world. Things have really dropped off for her over the last 100 years. I’m sure she’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. I also know that Ty Phoid, Chol Era and Tet Anus want to have similar conversations. Funnily enough, I know the Australian Paralysis Tick wants to make you scratch an itch she’s had for years. Come on what do you say, shall we join the party? Do you want to be famous, have more power over people than any politician ever could? Unbridled power, an irresistible voice. This is what you have always wanted; isn’t it?”


Cory nodded, infamy as well. Everything you ever wanted!

The music played by the mosquitos, the sight of what seemed like thousands of bopping blobs, multicoloured pinheads moving and grooving proved too much. My head spun; my senses overloaded. Nothing made sense. I became disorientated, confused, intoxicated. Cory was right. I couldn’t go home now. I needed to stay, I needed to learn more about this world I knew existed, but never acknowledged and ignored.

My arms started to twitch, my feet started to shuffle, my neck swayed, and my head bopped Bollywood style. I needed to dance.

I stepped back, I tore at my head mask, ripped off my Hazmat suit. Then, I stripped off till I was standing naked amongst the rubbish and the great unwashed. A second later, I threw myself headfirst into the pulsating hum of wretched squalor and thriving desolation, and I started to dance.

Kia Ora

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