UberHuman, or UberStupid?
After the Great Apocalypse, when the bombs wipe the face of the earth, like so many radioactive Wet-Naps on civilization, all that shall remain, are the cockroaches, and myself. I have built up immunities to all forms of disease and pestilence that are untouchable by biological weapons and such. How do I know?
Last night I couldn't find my leftover roast beef sandwich I had brought home from the diner on Tuesday. I looked high and low in the fridge to no avail. Figuring I must have left it in the car, I went out and retrieved it. I was pissed, as this was a $9.50 sandwich, quite an investment as sandwiches go.
Upon opening the tinfoil container it had resided in for the past 24 hours, in a car, in 85 degree heat, I realized that it didn't reek as I had thought it would. It didn't change color. It gave every appearance of being quite tasty. So throwing caution to the wind, I reheated it and ate it. What the hell. It smelled fine. Dogs and raccoons eat that kind of crap every day and you don't see their corpses littering the streets after garbage day.
It is now the next day, and I feel fine. No stomach upset, no colonic disorders, no nothing. That was a damn good sandwich. When I told Monkey, he exclaimed in disgust, "You are like a fucking billy goat! Why don't you just eat a tin can?"