A Flick of the Pen

Let’s talk about the cesspool in your face

Source: Wikimedia Commons

That cesspool in your face is talking at me. Now I am obligated to issue a response from my cesspool.

Have you ever thought about just how disgusting your mouth is? If eyes are the window to the soul, your mouth is the window to your anus.

You’ve got this 98-degree moist cavern right in the middle of your head, the focal point of your entire body. This cavern is filled with rows of weird white porcelain lumps that are like, “Ew, food touched me! It’s turning into plaque! I can just feel a cavity forming!” They’re divas is what they are. So high maintenance.

Just as your dog licks his butt and then your cheek, you are equally disgusting. You perform sexual acts on your partner, smoke or vape, hock a loogie, and then snack on haggis. All of these different substances constantly going into and coming out of your mouth, a place that is highly vulnerable to bacteria.

I want a mouth like a parrot: a hard beak with a dry black tongue. Better yet, I wish I didn’t have to consume sustenance at all – the whole process of eating, digesting, and defecation is inexcusably disgusting.

Speaking of dogs, I was in a gelato shop the other day. A middle-aged white woman comes in with her tween daughter and a small, fuzzy dog. You know those kinds that are four inches long and don’t even know they are a dog? Well, this one was unleashed, sauntering around the floor.

The owner said to the woman, “Next time, please don’t bring your dog in. We can get in trouble with the Health Department.”

“It’s a service dog,” the customer says with a straight face.

I can’t stand this modern trend of every single dog owner registering their pet as a “service” animal. That doofy little creature, who was busy sniffing the floor searching for tasty morsels, was of service to no one least of all itself.

To get a dog registered as a service animal, you aren’t required to provide any real documentation or go through any hoops. The lack of regulation is appalling. You just go online and pay for a certificate. Any entitled person who wants to bend the rules to their will can do it. And any purse dog can receive the title that should only go to real working dogs – such as those helping police, military, or people with sight issues.

So, this woman states her piece, and the owner leaves her alone. One second later the customer omits an, “Oh, no!” The cone sitting atop her scoop of gelato that was in a cup fell to the floor. I smirked as she bent to pick it up and throw it away. It was all I could do to bite my tongue, because I wanted so badly to say, “Instant karma, lady!”