So I'm sitting there all quiet like. Not a peep or a twitch. Cocooned so beautifically in my warm cave. And then I'm gourged out. Ripped cruelly by long talons and dug up from plateaus so silent..!
You won't believe the places where I've been dug up at! Bus stations and train bogeys and schoolrooms and cinema theaters. Waiting for your mate? Dig me out! Stuck at a traffic signal? Stick that finger into your nose! That book you're reading getting too monotonous? What're you waiting for? Pull me out!
And those historical ruins where I end up! Under the writing desk, edges of the bus seat, last pages of the notebook, and my personal horror, the caverns of the mouth..! Even bring rolled into a tiny sphere and flicked into nothingness beats that last one.
You know what irks me bad? When you have a really bad cold. You sniff and you sneeze all day and that thin cotton hanky you varry gets fated to have me blown into it. And then you peek into that little piece of cloth every single time. Why do you have to pull a face when you do that? I mean, you KNOW what you're gonna find already, and you still look just to make a face.
Like what did you expect to see? Diamonds?
It's really unfair, you know? Why this cruel treatment to me? Do you treat my cousins that way? Oh no, the Earwax gets the special treatment. A soft bud to coax him out and then straight into the bin so he can start his own life. No public birthings for him. No stick-on-the-wall or horr0or creature stories of that one!
But me, you've made into the Bogieman. The Bogieman, for God's sake? Did your creativity have to die off just then? Why couldn't I get a name just a bit more glamorous, huh? Something like the Snot Monster or Sticky Star would have been just fine.
And then you rub in salt by making me out to be some kind of a psychopath out to get children who don't eat their vegetables and stay up too late. Who cares if they don't sleep? I certainly do not, thank you very much. So I'd be grateful if you'd stop inventing the stuff of nightmares out of me.
Especially when I put MY kids to sleep by putting in them the fear of itsy bitsy baby fingers digging out naughty nose boogies from runny caves straight into kiddie mouths.
YOU'RE the stuff of OUR nightmares!
You, and the nicknames your kind give us. 'Jungle King' one babe in squeaky shoes called me! I nearly fainted out of her nose. And then of course, her mom had to have me blown out of her nose and into a silky hanky. And then open the hanky to peer at me.
One of these days, I'm going to learn to metamorphose into diamonds.
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