CORONAVIRUS: It’s no problem, pal. All I got to do is spread, and I’m doing that while we’re chatting.
REPORTER: What’s it like, being a major health problem?
CORONAVIRUS: Well, being a virus, it’s something you prepare for your whole life, but you’re still not really ready for it when it comes. It’s like any career in show business or music—you toil for years in seedy nightclubs or valet park cars in West Hollywood until boom! Suddenly you’re center stage. In my case, of course, I prepared for my worldwide moment in a bat’s ass. That bat pooped on some Chinese guy’s head, he touched it and rubbed his eyes and wham! It’s showtime.
REPORTER: Did you think about staying in China?
CORONAVIRUS: Thought about it? Sure, I did. What, there’s like a billion and a half of them to infect? And another billion plus next door in India. But there’s an old infectious disease saying, “Go West, young virus. Go West.” I knew I was going to make it big in the USA. From the mountains, to the prairies, to the oceans bright with foam, etc. God bless America! It’s the only place to be for a rookie virus with stars in its eyes, like me!
REPORTER: But some of the viruses that tried to spread here previously—I’m talking SARS, MERS, Ebola—they never got a foothold here. Don’t you think you’d be better off in a country with a poorer health infrastructure?
CORONAVIRUS: Carpe the diem, dude. It’s true a couple of my fellow viruses died on this hill, but that was back before Trump was President. The CDC ain’t what it used to be, good buddy. We viruses may fear effective treatments and reliable vaccines, but bullshit don’t hurt us. We don’t give a crap about blither on Twitter. Putting your holy roller Vice President in charge of beating me don’t scare me none. Pray me away! Go ahead and try. I’ll just be infecting while you’re genuflecting!
REPORTER: You certainly seem confident that you’ll prevail.
CORONAVIRUS: I got Fox and all the right-wing media on my side. Any sign that I’m spreading like a California brush fire is interpreted as a criticism of Trump, so it don’t get no play on Hannity. Those old people watching him are the first ones I plan to kill off. And I’ve been to my first Trump rally! All those luscious victims in their diabetes carts! Reaching under their oxygen masks to wipe the tears from their eyes while Trump brags about how I’m under control. It’s heaven for an infectious disease on the go, like me!
REPORTER: Do you have people you specifically plan to infect?
CORONAVIRUS: Well, everybody, natch. That’s the way we pandemics roll. But, sure, you have your dream targets. Pat Robertson, Paula White—any of those people that think Jesus is going to stop me—they’d be my pleasure to get all contagious with. Hopefully, they’ll blame me on the gays with their last breath.
REPORTER: What about, you know, the ultimate target?
CORONAVIRUS: I got big dreams, bro—you might have noticed that—but not impossible dreams. In three weeks, Trump is going to have himself sealed in a bubble-boy chamber with a flat screen TV and his Twitter phone, and he’ll be running the country, such as he does, from there until I run my course. What has he ever done to make you think he was brave? Right now, I guarantee you there’s a jar of hand sanitizer in every hallway in the White House, and an armed Secret Service agent making sure you use it. Hopefully, they’re sneezing into their elbows, right? Hah!
REPORTER: You really seem cheerful about your prospects, but in the end, don’t you think they’ll stamp you out?
CORONAVIRUS: Maybe so, cuz, but I’m going to enjoy my time at the top. That’s the way we viruses are, you know. We’re all kind of one-hit wonders. Hasta! Got to hit another nursing home. And, hey—learn to wash your hands right. That’ll be especially useful when you run out of toilet paper.