Scouts informed the leaders of Germ Town their mission was accomplished. Joe had bronchitis. He coughed up phlegm, spewed mucus, ran a fever and felt weak and achy. Success! A carnival atmosphere prevailed.
But then one germ spoke up--suppose he dies? What happens to us? We either get buried or cremated with him.
Moans enveloped the air. All dancing ceased. Stop the Attack! The order filtered down to the warrior germs in his lungs. Joe's symptoms eased and his health improved. He decided to attend a nearby summer festival. His germs lay around bored, waiting for him to sneeze in someone's face so they could launch themselves onto another human and begin a new attack. They would tie up and gag anti biotics.
Joe bought cotton candy from a worker who did not wash his hands after using the facilities. Now a new community of evil microscopic vandals awaited the order to attack.
Joe never knew what hit him.
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