Colonized Esophagus

Something or someone is attempting to colonize my esophagus. I find this…displeasing. Though the actual discomfort in my throat is minimal, indeed it is scarcely noticeable except upon swallowing, the defensive rally necessary to prevent an imperialist expansion and to liquidate, deconstruct and expunge the colonial pigs has dramatically drained my energy. As a result my performance has temporarily suffered on a number of important fronts.

For one, I don’t feel too good. There is a tightness, a constriction, within my abdominal cavities that strains my breathing, decreasing the overall effectiveness of respiration and thereby sapping my strength. The membranes and diaphragms in my pelvic and lower abdominal cavities feel sensitive and exhausted. They desire only inactivity. My skeleto-muscular system itself is tried by my minor illness, my right hip whines and whines because my right foreleg has lost its springiness. My back complains of a general malaise.

These physiological complications, though an understandable consequence of my immune system’s necessary seizure of certain emergency powers, have resulted in other problems in my functioning. For one thing, it is hard to look my sexiest. Indeed, it is hard to look sexy at all! It takes a fair bit of energy, much of it unconscious, to hide my many asymmetries with the glow of mystery and allure. Far from maintaining any such illusion of superhuman intrigue, I can scarcely keep myself from hobbling about like fool. Attempting to relax my right leg in response to complains of tissue fatigue, the foot turns outward, while my left foot maintains its noble straightness through the elastic strength of the entire left leg system. So I spend considerably more time on my left side than my right, hobbling about with the gait of a gimp.