The world is filled with festering invaders who only want to make you live a worse life. People don’t care about these biological warriors, but I do. I know the truth and I will not settle for a life where these aggressors get to have their way with my body. I wish I lived miles away from these gross animals, but, here I am, Bertram, in a land not too far away from these microbial devils. 

They never stop their attack. They just keep coming back and back and back. Look, look, look that man is just casually holding a piece of unfettered rope while their four-legged “best friend” continues to piss and shit on the road. Their disgustingness knows no bounds. Even after they pass my house, I can smell the bacteria trying to penetrate my door’s stability, but it won’t. I made sure of that. Every door, window, garage, and toilet is locked up with materials capable of withstanding a nuclear blast. Nothing is getting past my defenses nor will they ever understand how to defeat my walls. 

It’s a dangerous time we live in. Illnesses and sicknesses are proliferating endlessly without the thought of stopping their invasion against us; the human race. Unfortunately, most “people” don’t even know about this onslaught. They just continue going about their day as if nothing is happening. But, it is. There is so much eating away at our skin, our juices, our mental capacities. No germs are living on my presence, though.

Every day, I wake up from my cryo-freezer, exfoliate my skin in the burning shower with a sandpaper loofah, and peel off any remnants. Every night, I slather myself in superpowered hand sanitizer to resemble a baby being birthed from a woman’s disgusting vaginal canal. The difference between me and the baby is I cry from satisfaction, not because my mother just shat on my head. 

However, when the hunger arises, it’s hard to keep my anxiety down; knowing a harbringer is coming to the house to deliver me sustenance. Sustenance that hasn’t been scrubbed, disinfected, and redistributed into sanitized containers. I can see the microbes flounging around, reproducing into even more invaders wanting to infest my skeleton with their dangerous RNA. They want to consume my body, gorging themselves until their bellies grow bulbously. Nothing can stop them except bleach, acid, and gritty metal lacings. 

Just one trip. That’s all I need to last the month. Just one trip from these carriers and I’ll be able to survive for another month. Sure, cleaning the food meticulously may take the whole day, but I know I won’t become infected with the sick killing dozens of premature babies. My determination for hygiene will guarantee I live to the age of 70, maybe even 73. 

I’ll call them. I’ll call them right now to see if they have any availability today. They usually know I am calling before I even state who I am. They must be tracking my feeding schedule or have some kind of telepathic agent who is present in every person’s mind that have called them before. How else would they anticipate me needing their assistance? Nonetheless, I need my instant ramen, steaks, and ostrich eggs.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Bertram,” shouts the woman on the other end with a cheerful tone he never understands.

“I need another delivery.”

“Sure thing! Should I deliver the usual?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“We’ll have someone at your address in the next four hours!” 

They’re watching me. They must be. How did she know I was calling and that I would like my usual? Humans don’t just know this. They can’t. It’s not manufactured into our brains. We only know what is presented to us. What can harm us. We can’t predict the needs of others; let alone the minute details of their requests. I’ll have to consult ChatGPT about this more. I should have enough time to do this investigation. I’m almost done with my study into curing the common cold. It can’t take longer than two weeks.

Wait. Did they say someone would be here in the next four hours? No. No, no, no, no, no, no. That won’t do. I won’t have enough time to prepare for their arrival. I need to put out my nice tarps, insulate the cracks, kick away the pigeons, and place visiting boots for them to put on before stepping onto my porch. I don’t have enough time. I don’t have enough time!

What did my life coach say? One step at a time? I can do that. What’s the first thing I need to do? Insulation? No. Let’s start with the tarps. One tarp for the entryway. One tarp for the porch. One tarp for the door frame. One tarp for the walkway outside. Oh, god. I have to step outside. I have to step outside and risk the outside coming inside. But, I am prepared. I am prepared to fight off these microscopic killers with every inch of my ounce. Time to put on the suit.

The people online made fun of me for sharing my germ precautions, but I wasn’t making jokes. I never joke about these foreign serial killers. I have prepared myself since I became an adult. Preparing myself against the invisible enemy. Invisible to the foolish! I can clearly see them wherever I am. Bumping into each other, reproducing with each other, harming our communities with their bioweapons. They won’t get me. They’ll never get me. Especially when I have my suit.

*30 MINUTES LATER*

Okay. I got my suit on. Time for some of the… Upholders. It doesn’t matter how much I need, I have enough to keep me clean for decades. I can’t believe I almost started insulating the pathway before putting out the Upholders. But, what if the tarps aren’t enough? What if I need to insulate the house, then put the tarps out? No, insulation comes last. Insulation always comes last. Look at me. One step at a time. One step at a time.

Where did I keep the Upholders again? Oh, right. In the titanium antibacterial chamber down in the basement’s attic. It’s between the portable chemical shower and the shrine to Dr Alexander Fleming. What a guy…. The people out there worried about superviruses overpowering these medications are delusional. They can’t see past their own political biases. 

Okay. Got the Upholders. Got my suit on. Let’s start laying down some protection. Wait. What if the demon’s apprentices break through my suit? Let me double-check it and tape up any potential entry ways with that new titanium-laced tape I just bought. Shouldn’t take too long.

*30 MINUTES LATER*

Okay. I’m taped up. I’m suited up. I’m also tarped up. Let’s secure the area. Just move slowly so no sudden moves antagonize the infectors or give them time to attack me. I have my titanium-laced tape so I’ll just tape them to the ground and parts of the porch. But, what if I touch something and bring it inside? I should probably grab the portable chemical shower outside so I can clean myself before entering the house again. Shouldn’t take too long to bring it out here.

*40 MINUTES LATER*

Okay. I got the portable shower out here. What was next again? Oh, the laying down of the tarps and taping them up. One step at a time. One step at a time. Each Upholder should be meticulously laid out and cover as much as possible. Yes. Okay. One step at a time. First, the driveway; the pathway is next; up comes the stairs; and, finally, the porch. 

*2 HOURS LATER*

Wow. Look at that. It only took two hours to accomplish this. TWO HOURS?! They’re going to be here any minute and I haven’t even placed the tarps inside, yet! I can always have them put the shoes on and drop it off in front of the door. This will allow me to disinfect all of the food in the portable shower before even attempting to bring it inside. Those pesky microbes will be destroyed before they even consider approaching my insides. Their sins will completely erode and nothing in my home will ever contemplate their existence. I only need to put one tarp in front of the entryway and one behind the entryway, in addition to sticking the insulation in the cracks inside. I’ll be surrounded in the clean.

*30 MINUTES LATER*

Okay! I got the tarps up and I insulated myself. Perfect timing, too. Their van is pulling up. They should know what to do by this point. 

Wait. 

What are they doing? 

She didn’t put the shoes on!

“Hey! What are you doing,” I shout as I flounder with the window. “Put the boots on before you come any closer!”

“Put my nudes in the mailbox?”

“NO! Put the booties on before coming any closer!”

“I don’t have any boobies,” the delivery driver says back in confusion. “I am a marathoner.”

“NO!! Put. the. Booties. On before coming any closer!”

“Don’t worry. I am not going to come. That would be unprofessional.”

For fuck’s sake. “NO!!! PUT ON THE BOOTIES! PUT ON THE BOOTIES!”

“Oh, right,” the woman accepts and steps back two paces before putting the hypoallergenic UGGS that are not UGGS on.

“Thank you! You can just put all of the food in front of the door.”

“Are you sure,” asks the motivated helper. “We’re meant to bring it in and put the food away.”

“NO! No, it’s all good. I can put everything away myself.”

“Okey dokey,” the woman shouted as she walked back to her van.

What the fuck was that? I even had the speakers on to make sure she heard me from every angle. Like, why couldn’t she hear me? It must have been 100 decibels. People’s car alarms started going off, right? I know I don’t live in the flootiest part of town, but that couldn’t have been a coincidental car alarm going off right when I talk through my speakers. Oh… they’re unplugged. I took them out to insert the portable shower.

Let me just take off the insulation and Upholders. Shouldn’t take too long.

*30 MINUTES LATER*

God… I love instant noodles so much. Adventuring to the nearest professional ramen by a local mom-and-pop is too dangerous when those pesky bacterias are constantly roving the streets and tend to attack as soon as I leave my house. But, I make a mean bowl of ramen with the ingredients I have: steak cubes, scallions, seaweed, tofu, mushrooms, sesame seeds, and, the most important ingredient, a raw ostrich egg. Plus, if I wanted something different than the Asian delicacy of long cooked dough, I also have my kimchi, stockfish, potatoes, canned mussels, taro, canned carrots, red 40, red and yellow onions, canned eel, and pufferfish. Without these long-lasting portions, I would have to call the carriers more than once a month; sanitizing the house even more than I am now, wasting my time and energy on the excess.

Okay! Let’s get everything washed and ready to bring in inside! Let’s take everything out of their grocery bags, wash each food and grocery bag, scrub each item with a toothbrush, wash everything again, separate them into packaged and non-packageds, wash those packaged and non-packaged, then place each ingredient in their own segregated containers. 

*3 HOURS LATER*

My back hurts. Why does my back hurt? I’ve cleaned my groceries before. Sure, yeah, it was over the sink and not being hunched over the portable shower, but it shouldn’t cause this deep, searing pain. 

Silence

It’s the invaders. They’ve penetrated my defenses. How could I be so careless to allow this to happen? I knew I should have lathered my body and my suit with inedible alcohol. It would have eviscerated their entire structure and prevented this invasion against my livelihood. I need to do something. I need to think fast. What to do? What should I do?! The chlorine. I can use the powdered chlorine to clean the suit and take a bath with. But, it’s inside. How am I supposed to go inside without bringing in any visitors who would damage my vast number of house guests? 

I know! I’ll shower as scorchingly as I can with the portable shower—most likely above 300 degrees Fahrenheit—then I’ll run inside with the indoor tarp, and head to the bathroom where all of the chlorine and cleaning necessities are. Thank god I accepted Power Shower Hour’s offer for a manipulated thermometer. Okay. Let’s do this. It shouldn’t take too long.

*2 HOURS LATER*

Those emboldened attackers are nothing but microscopic beings. They may make us sick, but they’re fairly weak against chlorine. Personally, I can handle a chlorine shower and then some. Yes, my skin’s a little more sensitive to touch, I have random lesions, and I also struggle against the urge to vomit up blood, but my deeper defenses are must more resilient than these microbial infestations. They’re so weak. 

Now, let’s put on the contamination suit and tarp everything up near the entrance. Oh, geez. I need to put on my new contamination suit and put up the tarp inside. Gosh. I was really hoping I wouldn’t need it so quickly. Let me write that down. “Get new sanitation suit.” Also, look into the longevity of the top three companies on the fifth page of Google Search Results. Now, let’s get back to putting on the new suit and Upholding everything. 

*1 HOUR LATER*

It might have taken me an hour to find the contanimation suit and put up new tarps arond the entrance, but it was done. The Tarpmei Up Brothers truly know how to make material impervious to germs, bacteria, and blood. Because of their uncomfortable blankets, I have accomplished what so many people have attempted to avoid—sickness. But, I wouldn’t have been able to do this myself. I was given unique and important advice from someone I knew decades ago. In short, I can attribute all of these unique and enigmatic skills to my little brother. My little brother I met all of those years ago. Technically, he was a dog. But, he was a wise dog, especially as he aged. Smoked a lot of cigarettes.

Irregardless, let’s start putting all of this food away in their marked locations. Eggs don’t go in the same row as bananas. For one, the bananas would brown faster and the eggs would become baby chicks, which I then would have to decapitate for my weekly bowl of chicken noodle soup. Don’t worry. I wear body gloves to make sure none of the infectious liquids seep into my bodily systems. It’s similar to the suit I am wearing now, but personally customized by the same designer for all of those safe sex ads—Durex.

*4 HOURS LATER*

Yes, 4 hours has gone by, but I was able to cleanse my goodies with decontaminating cleaning agents and put them all away in their organized and labeled locations. They even sparkle when the light hits it at the right angle. I’ve never seen broccoli shine a sheen so vivaciously as this broccoli does. Those delivery people definitely know what they are doing when picking out the stalks. But, I still don’t understand why they would wrap their bread in paper towels. When I washed the bread, it completely fell apart and became the ashes of the fallen. I tried the same thing with the blended up cassava roots, but they, too, became mushy dust no one would voluntarily consume. 

Despite all of this taking me half of the day to taste cleanliness, it, coincidentally, has become the perfect time for me to clean myself off, slather my body in moisturizers, put my pajamas on, watch ten minutes of Sinners and go to sleep. I did everything correctly. I protected myself from everything. I even ensured my food was cleaned to a stringently royal standard. There is no way I am going to be attacked by the invaders.

*2 DAYS LATER*

Sneeze, sneeze, sneeze, sneeze

Oh, no.