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// sneezing |
Sneezing is a miraculous thing. I have absolutely no idea why the human body deems it necessary to propel snot out of your nose at 200mph whenever it gets a little itch, but who am I to question the nose? The physical properties of sneezing are just the tip of the iceberg. Sneezing, the orgasm of the nose, causes a unique phenomenon in society. When someone sneezes in public, odds are 2/3 that someone will say "Bless you!", or better yet "God bless you!". If I could meet the person that started this trend of insanity, I would shake their hand. Hell, I'd give them a hug. Because everytime I sneeze, it's like an open invitation for anyone to become a priest for two seconds. People come far and wide... people I know, and people I've never met before... just to bless me for what is probably the single most pleasing moment of my day: launching a small piece of my brain through my nasal cavity.
I think I would enjoy sitting in a sofa, sneezing continously for an hour, more than having sex... if only that were possible. If I shoved a skittle up my nose far enough to tickle the senses, I wonder if it could kill a rabbit on its mach 3 descention to the homeland. The nose becomes a cannon in the event of a sneeze. It's as if all the power of your brain unites and merges with the air in your lungs to summon the gods into your skull for a brief moment... your mind goes on hiatus, gathering power... and the snotic boom echoes at three times the speed of sound. It must be fun being a germ. "Gazoontite", excuse me sir whom I've never met before, what the fuck was that word you just muttered so confidently? I believe he was sending a distress signal to the entire germ community. Gonzo is in tight, the shiznit has hit the fan, and the hostile territory is now encrusted with a thick layer of excrement. The germs receive the distress signal and decide to send in some re-inforcements... ACHOO! Double-sneeze!
When those little germs conquer an entire room with their cold spreading sacrelige, the humans fight back with blessing power! Back infedels! Back! When a cold is spreading around school or work, you might as well stick a cross on the roof... the building has just become a house of blessing... or gazoontiting, but the act of gazooning tightly is probably discouraged in the work environment. I got arrested for tightly exposing little gazoon at a pot luck dinner. Stay away from the wang tang everybody! It's not orange drink, it's gazoonjuice! Spike it with some baby batter and fry up a stack of fetalcakes.
When you can detect a sneeze from miles away, it stands right over the horizon... sometimes motionless, sometimes truckin along... but regardless of its velocity, it will hit you eventually. The moment you realize that tingling in your nose is going to become a sneeze, any attempt to dodge the inevitable strike is futile. The gods are angry my brother, and they will have you blessed by a total stranger after giving you a nosegasm with the gathered brain harvest. And people wonder why humans only use 10% of their brain... the other 90% is used for sneezing.
I would like to think that I sneeze, not in vain, but for a greater purpose. Imagine, if you will, a giant blue wafer floating in a parallel dimension... an outcast wafer. This wafer never had any real friends, but it continued to follow through with the essence of what it is to be a wafer. Late night, hacking into the third dimension with his philosophical mindstack, our lonely wafer devised a way to pull energy from the inferior life forms of a distance planet in similar existence. Sensative from a world run amok, the wafer was locked in its bedroom closet by authority figure adult wafer (waf-dult), with only a spoon and a will. Digging hastely to provide a cubby for energy absorbtion, the blue wafer formed the image of a perfect utopian society in its mutated processing device. With our help... from our implanted instincts from a god not known, we fuel the movement. Our 90% brain unused, forever lost in the construction of an ideal world for a civilization of circular planes... until their time has come. The apocalypse. Their time is near. |
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