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Who knew The Onion® had a retarded stepbrother?
Wednesday, February 10, 2016, 23:19:UTC)(
12 January 2011
My parent's basement, USA -- Today, in my parent's basement, I sneezed into my elbow. Snot splattered all over the sleeve of my shirt.
Me, a man-boy of 23, was eating "Funyuns" at my parents house while watching re-runs of "That 70's Show". I remember thinking that I wish I had lived in the 1970s, where people went to the moon, paid 20 cents for a two-pound bag of greasy fries, and could hit-on Cher or Joan Rivers or Tricia Nixon while they were still hot. My best friend Tom was over, and our beers were running low. I was getting ready to make a trip to the fridge to get us some new ones when, all of a sudden, I got this feeling in my nose like I was going to cough or something. But it soon became apparent I had misjudged my nose. I was, instead, going to sneeze.
I had already made a swift motion to "cover my cough" as they had instructed me to do at my job. Unfortunately, I failed to realize in time that it was going to come out my nose, and before I knew it the stuff was erupting directly over my hand and making its way towards my shirt, and I saw from my sneeze-squinced up eyes that I was wearing my good clothes! In the background I could hear Tom screaming at the top of his lungs for someone to get a "fucking tissue" and "fucking fast", but I knew it was too late.
"I never expected anything like this to happen. You always seemed so allergy free," said my best friend Tom. "The shirt will be greatly missed" he concluded. Tom then claimed to have to "take a piss" and left the room.
The shirt in question was made of 70% cotton fiber and was from the 1997 Slash tour. But in the aftermath was left terribly green and sticky. After catching a glimpse of the mucus-soaked tog, I overheard my mother uttering "Great. It's just another damn thing that I'll have to wash!" In order to properly cleanse the shirt without damaging it she would have to wash it on the delicate cycle, because the other 30% of the fabric was polyester and would shrink if washed on the normal setting.
When Tom returned we discussed the alternate plan of just throwing the shirt away. However I quickly struck that idea down, as it is my favorite shirt and it really chronicles an important time in my life. Nevertheless, I did admit that the shirt was in bad condition.
My sister suggested that I buy some Benedryl to prevent situations like this from happening again, but I countered by mentioning that the chance of it is unlikely. She then pointed that I had actually had a similar incident last year when I coughed on my pants. But I came back strong by pointing that the previous incident in question was actually completely different.
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