I Habb a Codd
The O Pine

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© 2004 Brian F. Schreurs
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Is it nose-picking if your finger is wrapped in tissue?
I habb a codd. Bleg. By whole face feels funny. Like a rock is tryig to grow out of by face.

When I wake ub in de mornig, by stomach is churnig -- all de food is gone, nothig but snot dat ran down by droat overnight is in dere.

Bleg. Yech.

I fill tissue after tissue wid slimy smelly mucous. Kleenex is backig a truck to by door to unload. I'll use it all by day's end, a mountain of gooey sticky tissue in tribute to de ability of a sad little birus -- not eben alibe in de scientific sense -- to make us higher lifeforbs feel absolutely miserable.

Cough cough. De cough is not too bad dis time -- de endless hacking of some codds interrups all actibities, including sleep, in a full-body conbulsion of lug expellation. Not dis time dough. Bery little coughing. Dis time it is de endless stream of liquid booger escabig by dose. Oh how it drips!





I'm out of tissues. Just snort de booger-snot back in. Feel it slide down de back of by throat, down to by tummy where by gut churns from too much snot, not enough food.

Warm rooms bake the runnig dose worse. It flows like hot sticky dose magma. Snort. De booger bolcano sucks it back in! Some sneaks out dough. No tissues! I try to discreetly catch de runaway snot wid by figger. Now by dose is still full wid de endless booger supply and by figger is cobered in snot too.


Wipe it off! But on what?

Pants! No one will notice. I try to clean by snotty figger on by pants. It only sort of works. Now by pants hab a dark booger streak, by figger still feels funky, and by dose has replaced all de boogers remobed at de beginnig.

How is dis possible? How can de human body produce codd-snot so fast? Is dere a cold-snot gladd dat hodds snot by de gallon, waiting for a codd to come alog? Can we hab dis gladd remobed? I don't want it.

Stadding up, de room shifs slightly. Not quite spinnig, but off-kilter. Drows by balance off. I can walk straight, but slowly.

To de kitchen. More tissues. I blow, and choke as de snot hods fast against by onslaught. Man I hate dat. I blow again, snot goes flyig, right drough by tissue and all ober by hands.

Bleg. I hate codds.

Wash hands, grab some food. Ah, the inexplicable decongestant effect of consuming food! I can breathe again. I still can't smell anything but boogers, and my food -- pretzels -- tastes like cardboard snot, but I can breathe! I take deep breaths because I can. Ahhhhh! It's almost like I don't have a cold anymore.

Unexpectedly, I sneeze. With no time to prepare, the sneeze violently expels everything in my mouth and nose. The wall is covered in a mosaic of snot and pretzel bits, and by dose is stuffed ub again.


So I shuffle off to watch some TB and curl ub on de couch. It's codder in here, much more den de oder room. Wit de codd in by head, it feels codder den it is. I bundle up in blankets to warm up.

De dogs are lookig at be like I am dyig. Dey are concerd dat dey will not get fed if I die. Dey don't want to eat be, but they will if dey hab to. If dey would put an end to dis codd, I'd let dem chew off a few toes at least.

Codd medicine? Ha. De stuff lies. It does noddig for be. Nodding! Just makes be drowsy. Too bad de friggig snot factory won't shut down log enough for be to get sub sleep! De snot tissue mountain continues to grow. I wonder if I could jar de stuff and sell it as an industrial lubricant.


Ate a Reese's Cup. The amazing decongestant effect returns! I'll have to eat all the time to breathe comfortably. Watch for my follow-up essay, "I Have an Extra 20 Pounds".

Meanwhile, sleep. Sleep udder blankets and doggies, tissues rammed ub by nostrils, mucous poolig on by pillow.

I hab a dream. In by dream, when I turn by head one way, someone splashes by cheek wid warm, thick water. When I turn by head de odder way, a cute girl wid a strangely large tongue lick by face clean.