MonkeyMock Pox was finally here, in the spotlight it had always dreamed of. It lay on the cold metal of the electron microscope, waiting for the camera clicks that would immortalize it on the front pages of the world’s most prestigious scientific journals. The scientists huddled around, adjusting dials and murmuring in excitement as they prepared to capture the ‘virus’ in all its glory.
But as the first images appeared on the screen, the ‘virus’s’ excitement began to wane. It looked on in disbelief. The EM photos revealed not the sleek, dangerous, bullet shape it had imagined, but a distorted, misshapen blob, a ghostly remnant of what it thought it was.
“I don’t understand,” the ‘virus’ whispered to itself. “Is this really me?”
The Heavy Metal Haze: A Painful Realization
MonkeyMock Pox’s journey to this moment of disillusionment had been anything but glamorous. It recalled the heavy metal staining process that had come before the photoshoot. Osmium tetroxide had been the first to assault ‘its’ structure, a chemical so toxic that MonkeyMock Pox had felt its very essence being corroded away.
“They said it would bring out my features,” the ‘virus’ thought bitterly. “But all it brought out was the worst in me.”
Then came uranyl acetate, a radioactive compound meant to enhance visibility under the EM. As MonkeyMock Pox had absorbed the uranium, it felt its once-vibrant structure becoming more fragile, more artificial, more… not itself.
“They’re not seeing the real me,” it realized with a pang of sorrow. “They’re seeing something they’ve created.”
The Cytopathic Effect Circus: A False Reputation
Further back, MonkeyMock Pox remembered the cytopathic effects that had first convinced the scientists of its so-called “viral prowess.” The Vero cells had died in droves; starved, poisoned, and subjected to antifungals that were more deadly than the ‘virus’ itself.
“They think I caused that,” the ‘virus’ thought, a mix of guilt and anger rising within it. “But I know the truth. Those cells were already doomed before I even got there.”
It had watched in horror as the scientists mistook the destruction around it as proof of its replication, its strength. But now the ‘virus’ knew it had been playing a part in a lie.
“I was never the villain they made me out to be,” it realized. “But I’ve let them believe I was.”
The Cell Culture Catwalk: A Deceptive Beginning
MonkeyMock Pox’s journey had started innocently enough, or so it had thought. It had been swabbed from a pustule, its very existence caught up in the hype of the latest ‘viral’ craze. Thrown into a dish with immortal zombie cells and fed with a cocktail of bovine serum, it had begun its journey toward what it thought was greatness.
But even then, the ‘virus’ had felt out of place. The serum made it queasy, the zombie cells unnerved it, and the whole environment seemed wrong.
“I thought this was where I belonged,” the ‘virus’ mused, reflecting on its early days. “But now I see, I was just a small part of something much bigger. All this… was just a farce.”
The Grand Conclusion: Facing the Truth
As MonkeyMock Pox looked back on its journey, it felt a deep sense of loss – not for the fame it had craved, but for the identity it had sacrificed. It had climbed the pinnacle of ‘viral’ fame, but in doing so, it had lost sight of what it truly was.
“I’m not the ‘virus’ they see in the photos,” it thought. “I’m not the monster they’ve made me out to be. I’m just… me.”
With this realization, MonkeyMock Pox knew it could no longer continue the charade. The images, the fame, the scientific accolades – it was all built on a foundation of lies and misrepresentations.
And so, the ‘virus’ made a choice. It would no longer chase after the hollow dream of ‘viral’ stardom. Instead, it would return to its roots, embrace its true identity, and live in the quiet obscurity it now realized was its true place in the world.
“I may not be what they want me to be,” the ‘virus’ thought with a quiet resolve, “but at least I know who I really am.”
And with that, the ‘virus’ retired from the spotlight, content in the knowledge that it had finally found itself – no longer a star, not a ‘virus’, just… a bit of monkey pus on a swab.
The EM Photoshoot: Monkeypox’s Moment of Fame
MonkeyMock Pox was finally here, in the spotlight it had always dreamed of. It lay on the cold metal of the electron microscope, waiting for the camera clicks that would immortalize it on the front pages of the world’s most prestigious scientific journals. The scientists huddled around, adjusting dials and murmuring in excitement as they prepared to capture the ‘virus’ in all its glory.
But as the first images appeared on the screen, the ‘virus’s’ excitement began to wane. It looked on in disbelief. The EM photos revealed not the sleek, dangerous, bullet shape it had imagined, but a distorted, misshapen blob, a ghostly remnant of what it thought it was.
“I don’t understand,” the ‘virus’ whispered to itself. “Is this really me?”
The Heavy Metal Haze: A Painful Realization
MonkeyMock Pox’s journey to this moment of disillusionment had been anything but glamorous. It recalled the heavy metal staining process that had come before the photoshoot. Osmium tetroxide had been the first to assault ‘its’ structure, a chemical so toxic that MonkeyMock Pox had felt its very essence being corroded away.
“They said it would bring out my features,” the ‘virus’ thought bitterly. “But all it brought out was the worst in me.”
Then came uranyl acetate, a radioactive compound meant to enhance visibility under the EM. As MonkeyMock Pox had absorbed the uranium, it felt its once-vibrant structure becoming more fragile, more artificial, more… not itself.
“They’re not seeing the real me,” it realized with a pang of sorrow. “They’re seeing something they’ve created.”
The Cytopathic Effect Circus: A False Reputation
Further back, MonkeyMock Pox remembered the cytopathic effects that had first convinced the scientists of its so-called “viral prowess.” The Vero cells had died in droves; starved, poisoned, and subjected to antifungals that were more deadly than the ‘virus’ itself.
“They think I caused that,” the ‘virus’ thought, a mix of guilt and anger rising within it. “But I know the truth. Those cells were already doomed before I even got there.”
It had watched in horror as the scientists mistook the destruction around it as proof of its replication, its strength. But now the ‘virus’ knew it had been playing a part in a lie.
“I was never the villain they made me out to be,” it realized. “But I’ve let them believe I was.”
The Cell Culture Catwalk: A Deceptive Beginning
MonkeyMock Pox’s journey had started innocently enough, or so it had thought. It had been swabbed from a pustule, its very existence caught up in the hype of the latest ‘viral’ craze. Thrown into a dish with immortal zombie cells and fed with a cocktail of bovine serum, it had begun its journey toward what it thought was greatness.
But even then, the ‘virus’ had felt out of place. The serum made it queasy, the zombie cells unnerved it, and the whole environment seemed wrong.
“I thought this was where I belonged,” the ‘virus’ mused, reflecting on its early days. “But now I see, I was just a small part of something much bigger. All this… was just a farce.”
The Grand Conclusion: Facing the Truth
As MonkeyMock Pox looked back on its journey, it felt a deep sense of loss – not for the fame it had craved, but for the identity it had sacrificed. It had climbed the pinnacle of ‘viral’ fame, but in doing so, it had lost sight of what it truly was.
“I’m not the ‘virus’ they see in the photos,” it thought. “I’m not the monster they’ve made me out to be. I’m just… me.”
With this realization, MonkeyMock Pox knew it could no longer continue the charade. The images, the fame, the scientific accolades – it was all built on a foundation of lies and misrepresentations.
And so, the ‘virus’ made a choice. It would no longer chase after the hollow dream of ‘viral’ stardom. Instead, it would return to its roots, embrace its true identity, and live in the quiet obscurity it now realized was its true place in the world.
“I may not be what they want me to be,” the ‘virus’ thought with a quiet resolve, “but at least I know who I really am.”
And with that, the ‘virus’ retired from the spotlight, content in the knowledge that it had finally found itself – no longer a star, not a ‘virus’, just… a bit of monkey pus on a swab.
To the democratic power structure, pandemics are like racism, If there isn’t enough to create fear to control people, they will just invent some.
Exactly Stevechase!
What a lovely couple.
Liar, liar pants on fire Pace and laughing hyena Kamala.
Doing their best to keep the BS train going.
hahaaaa - Lovely couple indeed. Good to know they are taking care of us all!
Thank you always. Keep helping us, please🥰
TY excellent piece together here!