Last night, I had a singularly unpleasant experience, which I will now share with you:
After a pleasant evening of barbecued meats, ingestible liquids, and the discovery that the live-action Tick series is now on NetFlix, I negotiated the stairs to the basement where I would find my bathroom, bedroom and girlfriend, in that order.
The bathroom was the first stop, being highest on the order of immediate priorities, and being the resting place of a book about dinosaurs, for priority-based perusal. I set about readying myself for sleep. To whit, the removal of contact lenses, the washing of face (important that this be done after the contact lenses are removed, lest you accidentally wash one of those suckers up behind your eyelid and then spend the next 5-40 minutes trying to dislodge the persistent transparent bastard), and the brushing of teeth.
This last is where the unpleasantness set in.
I loaded up my futuristic, multicoloured, multitiered, multi-textured, plaque removal bristle-stick with Aquafresh, and vigorously brushed my teeth for about thirty seconds, or until I accidentally tripped my gag reflex, whichever came first. My body, responding to the physiological prompting of this most urgent of reflexes, promptly evacuated the large glass of water I'd consumed only minutes before, mostly through my nose.
Oh, but wait, it gets better. Or worse, yes, definitely worse.
There were also teeny-tiny little bits of my supper that came along for the ride, and, having made it to the sinuses, were quite keen on the scenery and decided to stay there indefinitely, to see what the seasons might bring, and take in the local culture. I shall not go into detail concerning the smell, let us simply say that having gone out through the olfactory in-door, it was quite intense and lingering. Repeated uses of facial tissues, over time, yielded up these digestive migrants, bit by bit. Lettuce. Onion. A bit of beef.
I recall saying, "Oh, oh God," quite frequently.
Once I stabilized the situation in my beak, I made a brief trip into my bedroom to retrieve a lubricating nasal spray that I keep on hand, largely to deal with winter dryness, but also for emergency. Spray in hand, I commenced to use a significant amount of it. Gradually, grudgingly, some sense of nasal normalcy was returned to me, as the blessedly scentless liquids of the spray washed away the memory of the event, like a river running clean and clear.
It was at this point that I returned upstairs to calm myself and make sure there would be no more lingering surprises, so that I wouldn't wake my somnolescent companion with anything particularly disgusting.
Thank you for your time.
