Swapping Spit With A Rust Monster

21 Mar

God, I hate being sick. I have been sick for, like, FOREVER. (By which I mean it’s been about a week at most GODDAMNIT IT’S CALLED HYPERBOLE.)

I swear, I feel like my throat has been replaced with sandpaper.

And by that, I mean it feels like I used a lumbermill as an asthma inhaler.

And by that, I mean it feels like I tried to swap spit with a rust monster.

And by that, I mean it feels like I replaced my vocal chords with a grain thresher.

And by that, I mean it feels like I tried to gargle battery acid.

And by that, I mean it feels like my uvula got replaced with a small fencing club.

And by that, I mean it feels like my fillings got converted in to boiling mercury.

And by that, I mean it feels like I attempted to eat the entirety of the Arizona Desert, and washed it down with the surface of Venus.

And by that, I mean it feels like somebody replaced my popsicle with a pack of hungry wolves and for some reason I still decided to eat eat.

And by that, I mean it feels like there’s a party in my mouth and they’re all in to really kinky sex.

And by that, I mean MY THROAT HURTS.

DID I MAKE THAT CLEAR YET.

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