Hello.  Can you tell me where the herd is?  I’d like to join it, the one with the immunity everyone’s talking about.  I need it bad!

I’ve been waiting impatiently cloistered in my condo pasture, while immunity is taking its sweet time to come home to me.  Meanwhile, I see no sign of any herds in the bleak offing.  

Yes, I’m seeing others being vaccinated on TV, which is encouraging, and a hopeful sign.  Yet the media keep drumbeating the deaths spiraling upwards, out of control each day and it’s making me more nervous by the minute.

When she sees the size of the Pfizer needles zoom into nurses’ arms on TV, my wife Rita turns her head away as it makes her almost nauseous.

Not me!  I’d take the shot right in my snout and smile just like Elvis did when he got his famous polio shot, if that would make my vaccination come sooner.  I’m itching for that damn needle.

You see, I’m over 65. I’m a domestic one hoofed husband who’s a sitting duck for COVID-19.  Right Dr. Fauci?  You tell ‘em!

So, I’m staying home in my condo stable, yearning to run with the pack, that illusive herd of immunity.  In the meantime, I’m well-armed with my trusty, fully-loaded PleXus zapping the COVID KID wherever he may be lurking in my apartment. Quick on the draw, I shoot him dead with my UV-650 I call E PleXus Unum, for out of many rays, it’s one killer device protecting my ass. 

Still, I want to join that herd.  That’s the safest solution. I don’t care if it’s a herd of cows.  I’ll go with the flow, even though I don’t think Rita would appreciate my running around with fully-grown females of any species. 

So, I’ll assure her that I’ll still wear my facemask, stay socially distant and religiously faithful. 

Isn’t that right, Dr. Gupta?  Even immune, you can still spread it.

I dedicate this to my sweet daughter Robin on her birthday. Happy birthday Robin and please stay safe for many more. Love, your Dad.