How To Cope With Going To The Dark Side

I’ve gone over to the Dark Side.

I don’t know what to do about it.

I might need an exorcism.

Or something.

This past week, I had a cold.

A very bad cold.

Seriously, it’s the worst cough I’ve ever had in my life.

It lasted for days and days and days.

And every day it seemed to get worse.

I had to resort to something shameful.

Absolutely disgraceful.

Spitting.

Ick.

I HATE spitting.

It’s disgusting.

The sound of someone working up a spit can send me right over the edge.

But I had no choice.

And it did bring relief.

Still, I can’t figure out how people can spit with such precision.

And when I say “people,” I mean guys.

I know it’s sexist, but it seems like spitting is a thing that men are born knowing how to do.

I am a terrible spitter, and I just make a slobbery mess.

But I feel better.

My family tried to offer me some suggestions.

Spit coaching, if you will.

I proved to be a terrible spit student.

Although I did entertain my guys so there’s that.

I’d like to forget this whole unpleasant incident.

But how can you forget something so traumatic?

If I were a cartoon character, I would drink a bottle of bleach and eat a scrub brush to erase the entire disgraceful episode from existence.

I don’t think that would work in real life.

My only option at this point is denial.

I have never spit in my life.

I have never ventured into the Dark Side.

That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.