Pathos in the Plumbing
Flush Twice proudly presents:
It was round about late Tuesday morning when I felt that nagging little irritating spot in my sinus cavity. Like when a piece of dandelion fluff goes up your nose, and you can't get it out. Not even sixteen hours later, my entire throat was on fire, and I would be staying home from work that day.
A day an a half later, it was clear that the shit had settled into my bronchioles. Every breath would crackle and wheeze with the sound of mucous. I coughed so much, I thought my throat might tear open, leaving me to drown in my own blood. Somehow I survived.
Do you want to know the most amazing thing about this rapid onset of bronchitis? It's the fact that I haven't had bronchitis in over nine years! I used to get this stuff once or twice a year, but back in 2010, I started vaping, and a year and a half later I had smoked my last cigarette.
Over time, I had stopped coughing up lung butter every morning in the shower. Of course I had a few colds here and there, but it never settled into my chest like this one just did.
Now these days I know how fashionable it is to shit all over vaping and criticize how it's getting young kids hooked on nicotine with fruity flavors, but the harsh reality is they would have been smoking "Black and Milds" or "Kool" cigarettes otherwise.
I hardly vape anymore. I fill my tank maybe once every two weeks... Maybe. I charge the battery about as often. I keep it around more as a security blanket than as an actual daily habit. Whether I'm using it or not, I'd like to continue to hang onto it if it's all the same, thank you.
But this past week my new found superpower had failed me, and my throat is a raw, soar snot coated tube of flesh that reminds me just how delicate the balance is for health and wellness.
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Flush Twice is a JOTD (Joke of the Day) website. New jokes are published every Monday through Friday (midnight EST). There is also a comic in the sidebar that updates every Saturday. We’ve been operating since May of 2003.
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(Just thought you might like to know.)
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Marty stood over his tee shot for what seemed an eternity. He waggled, looked up, looked down, waggled again, but didn’t start his backswing.
Finally his exasperated partner asked, “What the hell is taking so long?”
“My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse,” Marty explained, “and I want to hit the perfect shot.”
“You can forget about that!” his companion exclaimed. “There’s no way in hell of hitting her from here.”
Valerie and Linda were chatting over coffee, when Linda remarked, “All I want out of life is the four animals that my Mom always said I would need.”
Puzzled, Valerie asked, “Really and what four animals would that be?”
Linda took a sip from her coffee and said, “A mink on my back, a jaguar in the garage, a tiger in the bed, and a jackass to pay for all of it.”
Three cowboys were sitting in a bar discussing Southern women.
“I think Southern women are the prettiest,” one of them said.
“I think Southern women are the toughest,” said another.
The third said, “I think they’re the most polite of all women. That’s why they don’t like group sex.”
His friends looked at him, confused. “They don’t like group sex?”
“Nope, too many thank-you notes to write.”
The local vicar is having a bath, and he’s a little bored, so he decides to, ‘pleasure’ himself. He’s quite happily tugging away, reaches the old moment of bliss, and opens his eyes only to see, at the window, the window cleaner, jaw agape at what he’s just seen.
A couple of minutes later, the doorbell rings – it’s the window cleaner..
The vicar is understandably embarrassed, and asks the man how much he owes him.
“50 quid” comes the reply.
“50 quid?!?” says the vicar, startled.
“Yep, fifty quid or I tell the whole parish about what I saw, you perv.”
So the vicar hands over the cash, and the cleaner gets on his way. The following week, the bishop’s round for his supper and is having a wander round the vicar’s house, admiring his lovely home.
He says to the vicar, “Lovely clean windows you’ve got there vicar, who does them for you?”
“Oh, a guy from the village does them for me, he does a great job,” replies the vicar.
“Oh, yeah. How much does he charge you, then?”
“Well,” replies the vicar, “fifty quid, actually”
“Fifty quid? Blimey!” says the bishop. “He must have seen you coming.”