Dear Nose,

So how are you doing? I sure hope that all is well and good, and that you and your family (that little thing we call the “respiratory system”) are doing great. I do my best to take care of you all by not smoking, trying hard to not breathe in pollution, and by not inhaling anthrax. So I must be sure you’re doing good. I wish I could say the same for me, but here’s a little problem: you’re making me fucking sneeze all morning long.

It’s the first day of my Christmas leave, you see? I woke up after an awesome full night’s sleep (one of two things I haven’t had in a long time. The other is secks) expecting to have a busy day ahead, with me torrenting lots of movies, porn, games, and basically being a bum. A busy bum. Awesome, right? Well, I thought it was going to be, until hay fever kicked in.

A good visual representation of the torture I’m going through

I mean, holy shit. Worst case of hay fever in history. I spent a good two to three hours sneezing like crazy, scaring the shit out of everyone in the house. Hell, I endured three sneezing fits just writing the last two paragraphs.

And th entire point of this letter, nose, is that can you stop being so violently sensitive? I mean, it’s annoying enough that you get me into a sneezing fit every two days or so, but an entire two hours’ worth? Geez, did you get into a bet with somebody else’s nose as to who’ll beat the world record for sneezing?

I don’t know about you, but being world-renowned for sneezing is not exactly the way to go. I could be the guy who gets rid of world hunger, solve the JFK assassination, come up with a cure for AIDS, herpes, and cancer, or invent the internet. But I can’t. Because you just wouldn’t stop letting me fucking sneeze!

Seriously, nose, I feel like I sneezed out the left hemisphere of my brain already. Stop it. Please. Or I’ll cut off all your hairs again. Like I did the last time.

Odoriferously yours,

P.S. Fuck you.

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