What if your nerdy best friend caught a horrible flesh-eating disease?

You've always been a little at odds with Terry. He helped you with your schoolwork when you were younger, and whenever you get into trouble, he's there to lend a hand in any way he can, but more often then not he creates problems for you and damages your social life. Plus, he has this bad habit of inviting himself to every single social occasion you throw. Also, every single time you get back from work he is sitting on your stoop waiting for you.

Now, to make matters worse, he's caught this disease that the doctors call necrotizing fasciitis, and it can be somewhat contagious. You've talked with him before about your social life, but Terry never seems to understand. Last time, you tried to explain it to him as the "worlds colliding" theory. You told him that hanging out with your other friends was like mixing the wrong chemicals together.

"They aren't interested in your moth collection,"

You'd say.

"I see."

Was his only response. He left dejected and stopped hanging around you for about a month. It was the most blissfull time of your life. Then he came back, assuming the two of you had "made up" for an argument you never really had, hanging around you every day.

Now he wants to come to your party on Thursday, horrible flesh-eating disease and all. It's time for a phone call. The phone rings a couple times, and you hear on the other line a fevered

"Hel..l..o?"

"Hey Terry, it's me. Listen. I heard you have an awful flesh-eating disease. That's too bad. Look. I know you're looking forward to going to my party, but I don't think that would be a good idea with the whole flesh-eating disease thing and all."

He protests. He complains. He whines and says he thought you were better friends then that. Then he throws up from the horrible pain of his disease. You try to explain that it's just the flesh-eating disease, not him, but he won't listen.

"It's always something. Either I'm not the right type of friend, or 'I'm too cool', or you 'forgot' or I have a horrible, contagious, flesh-eating disease that could kill everyone at the party. You know, why don't you just come out and say it? You don't want to be my friend anymore."

"FINE! I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND ANYMORE!"

The words just burst out of you unexpectedly. You feel both guilty and liberated.

"Look. This time it really is the disease."

"Whatever."

he says. He hangs up and cries to himself before throwing up again, but you didn't know that.
Hopefully he will be feeling better in about a month when he starts bugging you again. That is, unless the flesh-eating disease kills him. But then at least you won't have to worry about him anymore. But you would feel pretty guilty about that, so hopefully not.

Now you know.