Dude, are you all right? You don’t look so good. Your skin is pale and clammy. Seriously dude, you look like Ray Liotta from the last 30 minutes of Goodfellas.
Yeah, I know that there’s a bug going around, but this looks more serious to me. Beads of sweat are dropping from your chin and your eyes have gone gray. Dude, what’s going on? This is jacked up!
No, don’t avert your gaze and attempt to slip past me – you need immediate medical attention. I swear to God, I’ve never seen blood randomly start flowing from both nostrils like that. You look like you just got out of a medieval Turkish prison, except for the fact that you still have your hands and (presumably) testicles intact.
SICK! You just doubled over and vomited a live cobra, along with other miscellaneous contents of your stomach! This is medically unprecedented! You’re like C. Manohoran Snake Manu or something! Now the cobra slipped away into the underbrush, hissing and slithering like Whoopi Goldberg on meth!
No, I don’t know what that means either – it’s difficult to devise a satisfactory simile when I’m looking at a dude who pukes cobras.
I’ll be honest with you. I’m more than a little repulsed at the moment. I’ll probably have the vision of what that looked like stuck in my head for the rest of my life, and that thought alone makes me want to dip a shotgun muzzle in chili before putting it between my teeth and pulling the trigger. Everything is so terrible now.
Personal aside: I’ve been made aware that my pastor and my parents occasionally read my blog. I have no regrets.