You know when you’ve got this really ch0nky pack of orange juice.

And you unscrew the top of the pack and start pouring the juice inside it into a jug waiting with its mouth open. And you keep filling the jug up. And the jug is absolutely glowing with joy.

“Yes, Master!”

“Oooo that just fills me right up!!”

“Ah yes Master, just like that!!! Keep going!”

“Ooo yeeeehehehe you’re hitting _all_ the right spots :D”

But then.

The light darkens. And he realizes he is nearly to the brim with succulent orange juice.

But the Master.

Oh the Master.

The Master does not relent. With a diabolical laugh that echoes around the Alpine foothills, he just goes right on unchugging the jug with succulent orange juice.

Now the jug starts committing the _p a n i k_. He say, “Oh no Master!”

“Oooh my Master!!”

“You do too much Master!!!”

“Oooo! Aaaaa!”

“Aooojinkuuuuchariyaiooooniiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”

“Ah”

“Ahhhh”

“I-I-I can’t breathe! O my Master!”

“I am too full, my Master!!”

“O lawd!”

“Oh my lawd! My laudable lawd!”

“Have some relent my Loooord!!”

“Kakakakaka”

_Glug_.

But o!

The spectacle just ploughs right on. Like an untrained bicycle rider into da _b u s h_.

And the Master goes right on pouring. With crackling cackles to punctuate the misty dystopia.

Up until the liquid extends its tongue over the rim of the jug. And the first drop of succulent orange juice _p l o p s_ over the precipice to fall upon the flat surface of the birch dining table beneath.

O h n o !

The first rebellion sets in motion a chain of straddling rebellions closely following behind in close proximity.

_Plopplopplopplop_.

They f a l l.

And the succulent orange juice overflows over the rims of the jug and down its high-density-polyethylene sides.

The jug, is my h e a d. The succulent orange juice, is my h a i r. And the Master.

Oooo the Master.

Aaaaa! Ooooo! The Master!

The Master.

Is c o r o n a v i r u s.

#quarantinediaries