Sunday Morning Re-Run

Sunday Morning Re-Run

I wrote this one a couple of years ago, today, about a terribly violent sneeze:

The Most Violent Sneeze Ever

I was writing an e-mail to my friend Jill a little while ago, and I let loose with the most powerful and violent sneeze I've ever sneezed in all my life. It was really horrible. It hurt a little bit. Mostly my sinuses and my throat, because of the sudden and horrible expulsion of air and mucus that had to pass through those areas to get out. It scared me a little, because it just came on me all of a sudden, too.

I was sitting there, writing to Jill about a mutual friend living in New Orleans, when Bam! I had to think for a second, and check myself just to make sure I hadn't been shot (or perhaps hit with a ninja throwing star).

I didn't even have time to get my hands up to cover my mouth and nose. I'm not going to check the carpet, but I'm sure the detritus of that horrible explosion is still there, soaking in.

That was gross.

You ever get a sneeze caught in your head? Where you have to sit there and wait on the little sumbitch to come out? And you just kind of sit there, doing nothing, with a ridiculous look on your face, waiting to sneeze?

Aid: What are you doing Mr. President? They've launched the nukes. You have to return fire, before we're incinerated...

The President: I'm tryin' to sneeze, you assbag....

And sometimes, nothing happens. You wait. For seconds, or days. Teetering on the brink of madness. Anticipating the payoff. And it's all for shit. The sneeze decides to tickle the backside of your sinus cavity for a few minutes, and then retreats back into your soul (which is where sneezes live, and, as we've discussed, you can find your soul in your gallbladder).

Do you count when you sneeze? I do. Because I don't sneeze just once (this violent, horrible, brainbursting sneeze I just had notwithstanding). Working under the premise that anything worth doing is worth doing 7 times, I sneeze a lot when I sneeze. At least 3 times. And I count. One. Two. Three. Five. I don't skip four when I count. Because I like to keep track of these things.

I have a notebook. That I carry with me. It's where I list my sneezes, and I rate them. (It's different from the notebook where I keep track of the People's Court case verdicts and also my violent injury log [Charlie Babbitt squeezed and pulled and hurt my neck in 1988]).

And other times, you sneeze like 14 times in a row. Maybe not 14. 14 would probably denote something's wrong with you. Perhaps you have an odd venereal disease. Sneezles.

(What's wrong with Jim...why isn't he at work? He's got sneezles! He got it from a hooker).

But this one sneeze I just had? Horrible. Absolutely tremendous. I consider myself lucky that I have a mouth and a nose to expel these things from, otherwise I might have blown off the top of my head with the force of such a thing. Or popped out my eyes.

Did you ever have the conversation with the weird kid in class who claimed he could keep his eyes open when he sneezed? He was lying, right? I always kind of thought that if you tried keeping your eyes open when you sneezed, they'd shoot from your head like pinballs....only to stop about a foot out, tethered in place by your optic nerve. And there they'd dangle, for the rest of your life. Unless you were able to fashion some makeshift stalks for them to rest upon....

What about that weird kid in class? Wasn't his name Kenny? And he got in trouble once for eating a pincher beetle on the playground. I'd guess he's in prison now. Or he's a preacher.

Yeah. That was a violent sneeze. I know, because after I sneezed it, the people downstairs pulled out their guns and shot 9 rounds into the ceiling. They missed me. Except for the one that hit me. Right in my elbow. Sorry Can't come to work tonight. Shot in the elbow.

How violent was the sneeze? It got an R rating just for violence....which is rare, because they only seem to save the rating for nudity nowadays. No nudity in my sneeze.

How violent was the sneeze? It apologized to me when it finished: I'm sorry, baby...I'll never do it again...ya just made me so damn mad.....

How violent was the sneeze? Phil Mushnick and the Parents' Television Council picketed against it. They're still here, and they won't let me watch professional wrestling, either.

But I'm mostly better now. (No I'm not, if this post is any indication....)