The Benefits of Being Sick at a Debate

Today I was appointed as the controller of a classroom debate. I had no interest in partaking in it at all so I am assuming that is why I was the chosen one. It is either that or my teacher knows I have the ability to yell through a human if they dared not listen. 

Actually it probably has something to do with the fact that I get so heated up and angry that if you stuck your middle fingers up at the Hulk and called him fat, he would not be able to get as angry as I do when it comes to arguing against a person who cannot make and hold a clear point yet still expects to keep on talking useless nothings and unfortunately my current class contains a person as such so perhaps that is why I was appointed the most neutral of roles. I now, thanks to my teacher, had the ability to argue both sides at both makers of weak points all in the name of my 'neutrality' which gave me the final word and gave me power ultimately over all that was argued, and I was rather content with that. The testing of the Hulk's anger levels and my anger levels was thus unnecessary. 

But something quite interesting arose in the debate today. One of the first girls who was arguing 'for' a certain book being racist spoke strangely, in a congested manner. It turned out she was sick. She looked so unconfident about the fact that she was chosen to lead the argumentative points, so the Good Samaritan located somewhere deep inside of me decided she could not let this be. One way of resolving this problem, thought my Good Samaritan, was to give that girl words of encouragement. But I knew that a simple "you can do it!" would not suffice. 

"Whenever you feel as though you are losing," I said instead, "sneeze at them!" She looked at me strangely. "Honestly, just sneeze in their direction and you will win instantly!" And then it occurred to me; she taken my advice, she would have won in two ways: the first being the most obvious, in that she would infect everyone so that there would be nobody to argue against her so she would win instantly, and the second being that she would have found an enemy amidst the arguing and it would have made her feel good inside knowing that she had contaminated the enemy and that that enemy would suffer for the next five days. An eye for an eye; a sickness for an argument. 

Alas she did not take my advice. She instead puffed out a few words, minor arguments that could not even offend a feminist on her period, and sat back down. What a waste of sickness.