#fluguy

#Walmart #SuperMarketPharmacyArea #CoolArtWork #FluGuy #MyThoughts

Flu guy artwork image from a long gone Walmart that I thought looked nice.

I wonder who drew him?

I would love to see a full body sketch of this guy.

Found out this Flu Guy is a clipart man and I image searched this character on google.

Cartoon Of A Sick Person | Free Download Clip Art | Free Clip Art - Clip Art Library

For my Infected Realtor Au

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I imagine if this clip art Flu Guy was a Infected Realtor then I can see the house being like a clip art version of this round house and the house body with the lure is allergic to the Fungmammal but is actually the tissue that is also weasel shaped.

And have this tissue weasel looking Fungmammal just makes this Infected Realtor not as sick around other things like having allergies then taking medicine but makes them sneeze to know danger is near.

Maybe have this Fungmammal parasitism around others then mutualism with the Infected Realtor like a animal that is overprotective of their friend but the person is allergic and takes medicine.

Images not mine but link is there.

Bulging at the Seams: Round Lakefront House in South Carolina

Weasel Cartoon Images – Browse 5,539 Stock Photos, Vectors, and Video | Adobe Stock

Mainly this Infected Realtor be like.

This Homie needs a cough drop.

They did not follow

me across the country

but are here all the same,

  identical to their brethren

in Pennsylvania. The part

represents the whole.

 The heat has taken all

my fervor against them.

I can only loll about with

 a cool cloth on my forehead

and watch them devour the cats’

food. I am powerless today,

 and then I wonder about you,

how delicate you are,

in the heat.

 The silence has become

thick and heavy with heat,

The ants have returned,

but you have not.

There’s one trapped

 in the crease of my thumb.

I should be conjugating

Spanish verbs, but I

 sit swilling bourbon,

listening to your silence.

I squeeze an ant from my glass,

Even this misery must end as all things do. So I tell myself. I will believe this.

There are water parks in the world, and happy children. Gymnasts and acrobats

The word for disappearance— absence without explanation. We shared shaking hands,

and I use mine to touch the screen, as if to conjure words from ether. Nothing

happens; there will be no resurrection of our connection. Instead, I breathe

out then in, trying to expel you from the hollow space. The library is a ghost town

Sometimes I want to believe the messages. This one tells me

I no longer need to play my cards. You are enough,

it tells me. But if I believe it, must I also believe

the nullity of silence you send me? There are no more

Innocent thumbs on the screen led to not-so-innocent fingers, hands, feet,

all twined together in a mess of quiet noise. All because you are silent and ignore me.

Skin sloughing skin and pulled hair reminded me of your sure, soft

I went back to the well

last night, and so did

the man on the screen.

  Vodka and olives for me—

and my notebook. Empty glass

and a cherry for him.

  We each touch screens to tell

each other—what?

That we are at the same well.

  The disappearing act continues;

let him be done and gone.