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SARS FINDS HARD TIMES AFTER FLEETING FAME
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LONG BEACH, CA – In this the second in a series of interviews with virus has-beens, the once-famous SARS, now just a drunkard rotting away in an old motel room, reveals intimate details of its life on the downward side of the arc of fame.
“I’m really having trouble finding work,” SARS slurred to reporters, taking a pull from a moonshine jar, “I did psychic stuff with Sly Stallone’s mother for a while this fall, but I got fired for predicting that people were going to die.”
“Dionne Warwick picked me up after that,” SARS continued, tossing the empty moonshine jar to the floor before picking up a jar of Vick’s Vapo-Rub. “I promised I wouldn’t forecast death, but people kept asking what would happen after the terrible fever and racking cough, so I had to say it didn’t look good.”
“I haven’t worked since, except for last month, when Sally Struthers asked me to give bunch of kids a low-grade infection for one of her commercials.”
“It seems like just yesterday the whole world was fawning over me,” SARS lamented, “now I’m drinking myself to death, living in a motel room with Whooping Cough, The Mumps, and Cory Haim.
“Have you been vaccinated?” Whooping Cough asked.
“I haven’t,” Haim volunteered, thinking Whooping Cough might be cocaine, “and I was a candidate for Governor of California.”
“No he wasn’t,” SARS interrupted, turning briefly away from the child-proof cap on a NyQuil bottle. “Cory just dreams of having success like Gary Coleman, that’s all.”
“God I hope I never fall that far.”
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