AcmeShorts

I had an obstreperous booger in the back right corner of my left nostril, I could feel it like an annoying mosquito in my ear. I guessed it was one of those with a hard, dry crusty end formed around a thick, barbarous nose hair and a soft, wet flagellar end extending back into the far reaches of the nasal cavity. I knew it would sharply smart when I pulled the dry part out with the hair; I would have to tighten the belt and take it like a man. I would then enjoy the long, slow pleasure of feeling the soft, wet part sliding easily along my mucous membrane, caressing it, assuaging the pain, providing succor to the small, throbbing exit point of the hair. It would leave a trail of slime tracing its path, a wondrous, ameliorative salve. I went to the mirror. I wanted to see this, watch it extend from finger to nostril; I would pull slowly, keeping it taut, but not too taught so it would sag a little as it spanned the inter digital/nasal space, bringing two lands together like a bridge, a long, mucousy, edible bridge of understanding. Finally, I would feel the kiss of gravity as the terminus of the booger (inches - how many? - from my fingertip) bumped over my nostril’s lip and swung through the air, free. I would look in the mirror, the proud, rosy-cheeked expression of the birthing sire. So much to look forward to, I thought as I pushed my right pinky into my left nostril, saliva filling my sub-lingual lumen, my stomach rumbling like the dickens. I have so much!