My Chemical Romance
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“The gender nonspecifity of this article makes it appealing to people both interested in guys and girls. Erm... not that I'd know anything about that.”
“Your chemical romance? Let's talk about My Chemical Romance!”
When my eyes met those of Trifluoroacetic Acid, I knew that my heart was taken. A smile from across the room was returned, and we walked towards once another. "Hi," I said, knowing that it came out sounding a bit shy. I had always been a bit of a Wallflower… but that was okay, because so was it. It introduced itself, and told me to call it "CF3CO2H" for short. This was the beginning… of my chemical romance.
A forbidden passion
Everyone told me that it would never work out. Like Romeo and Juliet, we were not meant to be with one another. A person like me and a carboxylic acid with three electronegative fluorine atoms? What chance did we have? But I was going to prove them wrong, I was going to prove them all wrong. Our first night out together, we went to the movies. We could barely keep our hands off of one another. It seemed like the most romantic time in the world. That is, until the usher came down the aisle.
Oh, he was pretending like he would do this to anyone… but the look of hatred in his eyes indicated that he was prejudiced against our love, just like most people were. "This isn’t a hotel room. Get the hell out of here, you two," he shouted. And as we walked away after being kicked out, I could hear him grumble under his breath, " CF3CO2H is meant to be used as a reagent in organic synthesis because of a combination of convenient properties: volatility, solubility in organic solvents, and strength. It is NOT supposed to be used to make out with." What a bigot.
We didn’t let him ruin our mood though. We went back to my place, and that is where the real magic began.
Its warm embrace
I held Trifluoroacetic Acid in my arms and it was like I was being touched for the first time. Every inch of my skin must have been covered with goosebumps. I felt a warmth like I know I have never felt before, as I’m sure it did as well. I dimmed the lights and lit candles all over the apartment, and left a trail of rose petals leading back to the bedroom, where I had carefully placed a series of graduated cylinders, an Erlenmeyer flask, a burette, and yes, even a separatory funnel. When we met again there, I slowly removed its covalent bonding and it laid a kiss on my lips. It was amazing. I could feel my heart jump, and my knees shake. The temperature of my blood must have risen a thousand degrees. Which is a significant problem, since CF3CO2H causes an azeotrope with water after reaching a boiling point of 105 °C.
Everyone warned me that it would be dangerous. They warned me that CF3CO2H was a "highly corrosive" acid, whatever that was supposed to mean. Who are they to judge our love? All I know is this… I didn’t need a material safety data sheet to tell me the "hazards" of my love. I knew exactly was I was getting into, and nothing would ever stop me. And when you think about it, isn't the nature of love to be highly corrosive? Because I felt like I was being slowly dissolved by a 1-molar solution... of passion.
With every pulsation, with every throbbing sweet move, we became less like two individuals… and more like one. It quivered and twicthed in absolute exaltation, as if it was undergoing electrofluorination. Quickly we got into a rhythm of unbridaled lust. What was once soft oscillations of flesh on electrons turned into harsh thrusting and pounding. We were intoxicated with one another. We got faster and faster until we both arrived at ecstasy. It had reached its flash point.
It never called back
We fell asleep in one another’s arms and I had never rested so well or satisfied. When when I awoke, I saw a room in disarray from the previous night's passion, with used filter paper and soiled pipettes strewn everywhere. But CF3CO2H was gone. I had never gotten a number or an address. Technically, I didn’t even know if that was its real name. It felt so magical… but is that all I meant to it? A one-night stand? If so, I will never look back on it with shame or sorrow or remorse. For it was the greatest night of my life. But still, when I think about the fact that I may never see CF3CO2H again, I want to cut myself. After all, this is an article that only emos look at.