I Survived Three Rogue Strains of the Flu Virus Being Injected Directly Into My Body: A Survivor's True Tale of Survival Against All Odds

At 2:27 this afternoon, I was subjected to a bizarre series of experiments that culminated in three rogue (the “nurse” called them “dormant”) strains of the flu virus being injected directly into my upper arm, no more than four inches away from my heart. 9 hours later, against all odds, I’m still alive.
I am a survivor. This is my story.
It all started when the overarching organization for which I work offered free flu shots for all employees. The offer seemed innocent enough, so I suggested that all of my employees get flu shots. Little did I know that we were in for the longest 15 minutes of our lives.
As soon as we got to the school where the shots would be given, I knew something was wrong. The nurses smiled at us, their voices luring us into their grasp like the siren’s call. They insisted that we sign page after page (2 pages) of liability forms. I should have known then what was to come. But I had no idea of the horror that awaited us.
As soon as the forms were completed, the nurses forced us to watch each other receive our injections. We were told that our time was almost up, and that we’d need to remove our clothes (so the injection could glide unhindered into our unprotected bodies). Soon I found myself naked amongst the others. They tried to call my bluff (“Sir, please put your clothes back on”), but I stood my ground.
I refused the painkillers they offered, gritted my teeth, and took a swig of whiskey as the elderly attendant–nicknamed the “Deathhound of Pain”–stabbed me with the needle. It must have pierced a good 2 or 3 millimeters into my arm. Immediately I could feel the chimera of viruses coarse through my veins, lusting for weaknesses. For a second I wavered, thinking I was finished, but then I tore the needle from my skin, threw back my chair, and raced from the room, leaving my employees to fend for themselves (that’s good management).
It’s been touch and go since then, but if I’ve made it this far, I think I’m in the clear. A loose flap of skin (the nurse called it a “Band-Aid”) hangs from my arm as a testament to my tribulations. I’ll never be the same, but I survived. Will you? Get your flu shots.