I was finishing up shaving when I looked down and noticed a couple drops of water that were slightly tainted red. I assumed that I cut myself and looked up to see were the nick was. It was at that point that my nose unleashed a crimson tide like I’ve never seen. My head transformed into a nightmarish blood fountain. I wasn’t even able to determine which nostril had imploded because my whole lower face was covered in red ick, looking like Dracula back from the buffet. Meanwhile, my hands were soaking wet from shaving, preventing me from grabbing a tissue. I held my dripping head over the sink while angling my hands back to the towel. When that was accomplished, I grabbed the toilet paper and finally mopped up the mess.
The left nostril turned out to be the guilty party, and I had to plug it a couple times just to slow it down. The sink looked like a murder scene, completly splattered with blood. Now, had I been thinking, I could have used this as an opportunity to assist my roommate, a recovering sex addict who had a major breakdown the night before. All I would have had to do is dip my finger in the blood to spell out a note for him and his guest:
“When you are finshed with her, please leave me the body, thanks.”
He would have been grateful in the long run for helping him get back on the wagon, but sadly I didn’t think of it till too late. So instead I rinsed it all down the drain. At least I think I got it all – I was running pretty late by that point.
As far as the nose goes, I left the plug in till I was almost to work. It was soaking through, and I was considering heading straight to the emergency room. My brain is rupturing, quick somebody scan my cat!! Or maybe something from my nose surgery last Spring had broken loose (it was the same nostril that had been worked on.) But then the voice of reason finally kicked in and said,
“Hey dude, this is the voice of reason. Did you notice your sinuses are kickin and your nose is dried out?”
So I verified this and sure enough he was right. At the next stoplight, I worked up the courage to take out the plug. I pulled the red glob out of my nose and studied it. Then it occurred to me that other people could find that disgusting. Like the other people waiting at the stoplight. I glanced at the car to my left, and the driver quickly looked away, suddenly taking an unnatural interest in her steering wheel.
Fortunately, the flood had receded and my nose was dry. In the end, I was only ten minutes late for work which no one noticed because they were all focused on their own tragedy – the broken coffee machine. I took a couple shots of nasal spray and it seems to be all right (my nose that is, not the coffee machine). Part of me though is hoping that when my boss comes over to ask how my day is going, my nose will open up and squirt over everything. If that doesn’t get me sent home, nothing will.