A week and a half ago our poor Libby Sue was struck down with a bug. She threw up a couple of times and ran a low temperature, but other than that seemed just fine. She was just as pleasant as always (which isn't very). It didn't slow her down at all.
Fast forward three days later. I catch Libby's bug. All though now it has mutated. Now it is the disease from Hades. It involves a lot of puking and pooing. And don't even think about farting. It's not going to end well. Stomach cramps that makes a woman who gave birth twice, bend over in agony. Two days into the abject misery that had become life, Ethan is struck too. Vomit coats every surface in the house. The washer runs all day, just trying to keep up.
One day later, Michael is struck. We all sit around staring at each other from sunken hollow eyes. That is when we aren't pushing each other out of the way to get to our single toilet. All of us that is, except for Libby. Libby is skipping and hopping and singing her way around the house. She is beyond pleasant. Her life could not be any better. For five days no one has asked her to eat a single vegetable. She is living primarily on PB&J and crackers. The juice flows freely. Ethan doesn't care what toys she plays with. Her life is all she has ever dreamed of.
Out of our half crazed eyes, we realize the truth. She is enjoying this. She has infected us on purpose. It is all part of her master plan. Now that the illness is starting to subside a bit, I resolve to keep a close eye on her. I don't think we will live through her next plot.
