Immune Response

So this week I'm going to do another Special Event sort of thing.  That is to say, these next seven-ish stories all have a common theme to them.  If you guess what it is and e-mail/IM/facebook/whatever the answer to me and you're the first one, then you win... um... a minor favor of some kind.  Sure.  Ask me to do something for you.  Preferably something writing related and that doesn't cost more than a few dollars.

Rampant speculation in the comments is, of course, encouraged, but be careful about giving away your Brilliant Notion.

(I actually have no idea how easy it will be to figure this out, in all honesty.  Probably hard, but maybe not as hard as I think it might be.  I didn't actually design this as a puzzle per se.)

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People don’t listen to their bodies.  There’s a lot of wisdom in you, wisdom you don’t even know about. 

The problem is invaders.

When things come in from the outside and they don’t belong, the body knows.  It tries to fight.  The crazy part is that then we try to stop it.

I’m not crazy.  I listen to my body.

I’ve got the gun in my hands – both hands, for safety – and I’m waiting.  Something will come through that door soon, and it won’t belong here.  I know; I smelled it coming.

Feel that tickle in your nose?

It’s here.