Bleugh! That's disgusting!

Bleugh! That's disgusting!

The experimental mid-morning snack of marzipan and bacon was not a success, though typically this didn't prevent Miles from finishing it off when he rolled in from the club at 5am

At 5 am, having achieved the badge of Mayor at hangover-vomit land, it didn't matter what he ate. Anything that would soak up the vodka in his system would thrash back his desire

to be human. He whipped up a chili-cheese day-old pizza scramble with a side of BBQ pulled-pork and steak fries sandwich. He gobbled it up and chased it with Pineapple Juice. Uh-oh

That wasn't Pineapple Juice. Not for the first time, he cursed the day that he had responded to that ad: "Lab Technician seeks roommate." He ran for the sink, tripping over a

Bunsen stand, burning his shin. He could even spit into the sink that's how full it was with Petri dishes. The worst was the refrigerator covered with childlike illustrations of

caught my attention. One of the colonies seemed to be flowing and changing its shape. I placed the petri dish under the microscope and focussed on the colonly. It was spelling sos.

in Morse code, three round piles, three oblong piles and three round piles of bacteria! Clever little bastards they included their call sign ---*** --- -*- -*-* --*** -* --

Too bad this was discovered after they were doused with Purell, making them clever, but dead, bastards.