The Seven Habits

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Infective people are everywhere, man. They pass you on the street, rub up against you at the bus stop and walk out of bathrooms without washin’ their hands. They sneeze, they cough, they fuckin’ breathe the same air you and I gulp down to fuel our energy starved cells. We’re just lucky it ain’t airborne, ya know?

But God forbid ya put the moves on that cute brunette with the nice ass who’s been giving ya the hungry eye all damn night. Next thing ya know, she’s got her tongue shoved down your throat and these microscopic terrorists are waging molecular jihad all up and down your circulatory system.

Sad part is that sexy little bitch doesn’t even realize she’s a carrier. None of ‘em do. They go about their business like there’s no tomorrow: workin’, partyin’, tuckin’ their precious little incubators in for the night so they can slip off into the shadows and exchange infection with some unsuspecting host. Kissin’ and fuckin’, suckin’ and swappin’ juices—it’s the perfect recipe for contagion. See, that’s the places these toxic little bastards just love to congregate. Warm, moist, and dark… may as well be walking around with a friggin’ petri dish surgically implanted in your crotch.

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