The World’s Biggest Booger

The World’s Biggest Booger

Had a little too much to drink last night and I made with a little liquid burp.  I hate that.  It made my throat sore. Actually it was a big liquid burp.  But it was the smell as I wiped my chin off with my forearm that got me to thinking of the last time I blew chow.

It's been 17 years now, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. Or maybe the day before yesterday, whatever works here.

I was alone (as is my custom) sitting at the bar of a waterside restaurant called The Fisherman’s Inn. I was drinking heavily (another favorite custom).  I was lonely and needed someone to talk to, so I ordered a steak.  As usual the steak just laid there. In other words, a typical date for me.

After several minutes of awkward silence, I politely excused myself and headed to the men’s room where my plan was to slip out of the restaurant quietly, sticking the steak with its own check. However, guilt got the better of me, as well as the fact that I left a $20 bill and my car keys on the bar, so I returned.

I’ll make this next part quick – I woofed the steak like a dog in an Alpo commercial that had been on a forced 6-day fast.  I don’t even think I chewed it.  More about that later.

With my non-talkative date now gone, more beers were guzzled.  I got drunk as hell.  By the time I got home, my reeling head told me it was time to purge. Hurl. Puke. Vomit. Heave. Upchuck. Make some curbside quiche. Make a platform pizza. A Technicolor yawn.  Oh yeah, and barf.

So barf I did. The kitchen sink seemed to be the most convenient place, since I was already laying on the countertop. When it finally came to a merciful end, my head cleared a little and I crawled off to sleep on the kitchen table (you guessed it, another custom).

Cleaning the sink the next day was sweet, with it being full of dirty – I mean dirtier – dishes. The task was not as hard as you might think, due to the large amounts of hydrochloric stomach acid which assisted in the melting away of weeks-old dried gravy, hardened pasta, and cement-like grits that constituted most of the crap on the plates.

Okay, so I cleaned the sink, countertop, etc.  Went and cleaned myself up, too, by way of taking my weekly shower a day early.  What the hell, right?  In for a penny….

Anyway, even after all the cleaning of house and self, the funny thing was I kept smelling puke.  Everywhere I went.  I’m walking around the house going, “What the hell?  Did I miss a spot?”  Couldn’t find any stray vomit anywhere.

As the day went on, not only am I still smelling it, but my throat is getting sore.  My nose starts to run.  I grab a paper towel to blow my nose, and out comes the biggest goddamn booger you ever saw in your life.  It was a piece of the partially chewed steak, stuck up in my sinuses from the big chunk-blowing session from the night before. 

I looked at it with a combination of awe and disgust. It was huge. It was the size and color of an unpitted prune, size XL. How in the hell could this thing have possibly fit through my nostril?  It was unreal.  It appeared to have a little A-1 sauce on it, too, which is unusual only in that I didn’t have A-1 Sauce with the steak.

It is said that of all the five senses the sense of smell is the strongest trigger for evoking powerful and vivid memories. Sadly, I couldn’t agree more.

The horror….the horror….