Guy Faber and the True Meaning of Good Fellowship

I should probably shave sometime soon.

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I want to be the fattest person in all the world. Fat is seen as gluttony or an undesirable trait to those living in a time more concerned with their physique than with their own happiness. Many Canadian studies done within the last decade or so link the gene contributing to obesity to the one the produces more dopamine, and therefore, happiness.
       

Faulty wakes, iodine laxatives, happiness inducing rotundity, the magic knowledge that only looted medical journals can give you. Did you know that you can prevent the gag reflex by merely holding your tongue? I'll bet you didn't. Think of all that tongues that had to be pulled in order for you to obtain this useful information.
       

Discarded medical journals are the best because almost everyone has them lying about the house collecting dust until the zombies come, now we can pull our tongues in peace.
       

Whenever somebody walks into our dorm in the hostel, they need to knock first, or set an appointment, either of which will allow Guy enough time to slip out the window or otherwise be displaced from the room.
       

 "What exactly are your symptoms?" I ask.
       

Diarrhea, nervousness, gas, and abdominal inflammation.
        "How long has this been going on?"
       

 About three days now, they're afraid they might be contracting some kind of zombie-like parasitic bug.
       

"Have you any allergies?"
       

None.
       

"Recent abnormal change in diet?"
       

 None.
       

 "Recent sexual activity?"
       

 None.
       

 None of these questions actually have any affect whatsoever on the outcome of the diagnosis, but it's always interesting to see their answers not to mention the added realism to the procedure.
       

 They have an acute rotaviral infection.
       

 They ask me how serious it is.
       

Very, but treatable. I give them the baking soda tablets.
        How long will they have?
       

Depends on the severity of the infection and how soon they start taking the tablets.
       

 They thank me, I get payed, and they leave with the pills. Guy's in the other room making more laxatives to pass out in just a few minutes while I wait for another patient, afflicting and 'curing', like a well oiled machine. Guys places the new pills on top of the desk where I'm sorting out new stuff as he grabs the speech for today's sermon and leaves for the basement, a now makeshift chapel.
       

It's important that every word coming from his mouth is just optimistic enough to have them feel enlightened for the rest of the day, but not so hopeful that they wouldn't want to come to another sermon. Souls need saving. Pills need grinding. I think I have to use the shared toilet.
       

 The only downside to our amazing business is when we have to use the bathroom, where our work is the most evident. I do most of my deep thinking in this room because who doesn't. Many an epiphany has been made with the pants down here. Not this very spot, mind you, but somewhere else in a similarly made room.
        My best friend from med-school was Eva Lowe, we started as roommates but were finishing each other's diagnoses and like an old married couple, know exactly when the other has done something wrong. We usually commited these wrong things together. Mind you, nothing sexual, but they couldn't exactly figure out where all those bees came from on the campus entrance.
       

When word got out about zombies being real and an outbreak in our immediate area I walked into the dorms, everyone was running and panicking, the first zombie movies weren't about zombies, but about the people trapped by them. I walked in, everything was where I left it. No looters had come, not a single chair overturned nor a ramen package taken. Everything looked so pristine as though you would never have guessed there was an outbreak in the first place. No note or anything of the sort, Eva had vanished.
       

You remember often joking about how if the apocalypse was ever triggered we would both screw everybody else over for a chance as restarting and ruling our new society as gods. Now that you can't make good on that promise, you wonder exactly where she went.
        You flush and walk out as there's a line of three other 'patients' outside the door waiting for you to finish your thinking.

Author's Note

Suddenly, the entire rooms starting hissing like a drunken maraca.