08/26/2026
At Action Center Paintball, I work in the sun,
Building the field and calling it fun.
I grab an old tire that’s been sitting for years,
And dump out the water—then question my career.
It’s black and it’s bubbly, it’s rotten clear through,
There’s probably a life-form in there growing too.
Mosquitoes look healthy, the bacteria thrive—
I’m pretty sure something just winked at me… alive.
So one of two futures is waiting for me:
I’ll become immune to every disease there can be,
Or someday the CDC will knock on my door:
“Sir, congratulations—you’re Patient Number One for year.”
I’ll grow extra antibodies, maybe an arm,
Become completely immune to biological harm.
Or they’ll quarantine Morgan and circle my name,
And Action Center Paintball will achieve worldwide fame.
But after the gagging, the sludge and the grime,
After wondering if tetanus can kill you nine times,
I stand back and smile at the field when I’m done—
Dang, those old tires sure look good in the sun!
