Oh god, oh jesus....oh god AND baby jesus. I just had to withstand something I've never had to withstand before. I sneezed 49 times in a row.
At 10, it was getting interesting. Wow, this was gonna clear my head for sure!
Somewhere around 20, it ceased to be fun My eyes started doing this,
which is less hunky than you would assume.
At 21, I was out of fingers and toes to count. I was on my own now. Wait! Boioioioing....
At 25, I was hoping no one would see me with 7 gallons of snot running down my face, and tears dripping down my cheeks by the bucketfull. Why the hell was I thinking about that? Vanity is a sin, you know.
Number 30 rolled around, and I wanted my mommy. They're good at making bad things stop. She probably would have told me to plug my nose and try to hold it, or jam a pencil up there, I dunno...but without her knowledge, I was at the mercy of my own reflexes...
Sneeze #35 I was praying for a swift death. Where's the rope I pull to drop a piano on my head? I swear I installed that somewhere...
At 40, I figured "Well, this has to stop my heart, or launch my brain out of my nose eventually. Lets just ride it out and wait for sweet, sweet death to embrace us."
When sneeze 49 hit, (yeah, I have an odd habit of counting my sneezes, cuz sometimes i get up into the 20's and 30's) they seemingly stopped. I figured the death-dealing-nose-explosion -- big number 50 -- was building up to take me out. I started looking at where I remembered the ceiling light to be, to see if I could induce another. Why the hell not. I like nice even numbers. Even when excruciatingly uncomfortable, my OCD comes out. But alas, and thank god at the same time...it was not to be.
Now that I'm all done mopping up tears, and blowing my nose, it looks like I had a masturbate-o-thon...piles of wet kleenex all over the place, me lying exhausted, no life left in my body, and my pants around my ankles. (Hey...I knew this was going to kill me, and my worst nightmare is to go out with dignity! My ideal death, for example, would look something like THIS)
I want to throw the refuse in the garbage, but I barely have the energy to type right now.
I think I need a brain transfusion. This jag made me dumber, somehow.
-Annie Histamine
