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6.10.2003 by Rosemary, every Tuesday.

I've been very busy getting an apartment in Toronto, so here's just a sort of silly ramble. It's a continuation of my, uh, bad doctors / fluid problems theme.

One morning Tale woke up with a rather unusual sensation of fullness. He heaved himself out of bed and walked around on the creaky bedroom floor, tasting and measuring the new experience. It felt like every free space in his body had been filled with water.

He went downstairs and cracked an egg. The fizzle of the egg frying was music to his ears, but when he set it on some buttered toast and had salted and peppered it, he found that he couldn't eat it. He just didn’t feel hungry. So he called his doctor.

“Doctor Spector,” he said, “I think I have become filled with water.”

The doctor hummed, as he always did when he was thinking. Eventually he could come to only one conclusion: the water would have to come out, somehow.

“The water must come out, somehow,” he said.

“But how?” asked Tale.

“I don’t know, there is no precedent,” said the doctor, and he began to hum again. It was "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Tale hung up and went back to his breakfast.

The egg had become cold, so Tale shook his head and gathered his things for work. He went outside, and the warm, rainy air felt beautiful to him. It was so beautiful that he felt a little twisted up inside.

There was a dead bird, by the roadside, halfway to work. It was a baby bird, its two little feet all curled up tight. Tale felt the twisted feeling again, and the corners of his eyes went a bit moist, but the water stayed inside. He frowned.

The morning at the office passed rather uneventfully, and Tale found it quite easy to forget about the strange bloated feeling as he lost himself in filing. By the afternoon, however, he felt a little dizzy. As he watched Old Merle the accountant shuffle past his cubicle door, Merle’s painful, cramped steps made Tale feel the overpowering twisted-ness once more. Still the water stayed inside.

At four p.m., sea levels all around the planet rose inexplicably and the street outside was flooded with ocean. Fish jumped over a one-way sign and a dog on a broken chain paddled by, looking panicked. Gazing out the window, Tale sniffled a bit and felt dizzy. He would have to do something about this fullness.

Suddenly he had an idea. He went to his desk and reached way into the back, where he kept loose things. He pulled out a pack of photographs and flipped through them. They showed a man in a wifebeater, looking quite tired, leaning over a lawn-mower. The lawn-mower was purple.

Tale felt water forming at the edges of his eyes. He blinked, curiously. Then he exploded.

Due to the rising sea levels, and therefore the increased water all around, his predicament did not raise as much alarm as it might have otherwise.

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