The Toxic Avenger?

After receiving a very upsetting letter a few days ago – for the record, not from Justin – I’ve been in a state of intense mental agitation and worry as to what to do about it. I tried to tell my brain to just let it go, that it was a rash piece of writing sent in haste and that I should disregard it, not respond, wait for the feelings to pass. But my brain would not listen. It kept reminding me of the letter, of certain painful phrases contained within, and I wandered for hours, zombie-like, up and down the streets of Toronto, quietly obsessing.

Before I proceed further with this story, I want to make it very clear that I am not a mouth-breather. My jaw is usually returned to its upright and locked position after I have finished talking or eating. Therefore if you see me walking, eyes vacant, lips parted, with my oral cavity hanging ajar, it means that something is terribly wrong. It means I am for the moment living entirely in my own head, oblivious to how my body is being perceived by others. This rarely happens, but when it does, it means I am mighty upset.

So I was heading up Bay Street through the wet drizzle on Friday morning, at a pace that could easily be overtaken by octogenarians, with my cakehole wide open, stewing over this letter. I was chewing over its accusations, gnawing at the words and sentences like a dog with a bone, wondering how its author could have come to feel this way about me. My stupid, mad brain was running in circles.

Suddenly, a taxicab driving past me sank its front tire deep into a gigantic pothole in the road, unleashing about three gallons of icy street water all over my face, neck, chest, crotch and pants. A direct hit! You may be able to guess where this story is headed: a solid half-cup or so of putrid sewer cocktail made it directly into my gob, and the shock of cold water unexpectedly hitting my tongue made me swallow.

Now, I walk up Bay every damn day. I know what people dispose of in the downtown gutters. Cigarette butts. Phlegm. McDonalds containers. Dead squirrels. At first I was really, truly grossed out by this. I mean, haunted. Seriously, that street water was gritty, not to mention slightly viscous. I briefly debated buying a bottle of bleach to chug as a chaser. What more harm could it possibly do?

Five minutes after the incident, relieved to find myself still not dead, my train of thought quickly reoriented in a more positive direction. I began to harbor the very reasonable belief that surviving physical pollution of this caliber probably meant I was even now developing superpowers.

I can only speculate as to what sort of magical sewer-related abilities will be mine, but I will keep everyone posted as to the results.

20 thoughts on “The Toxic Avenger?

  1. That reminds me of this past summer, when I inadvertently inhaled some pigeon poop. I was convinced I was headed for disaster, but am still here!

    *pet*

  2. Dude. I was reading this out loud to my little sister and when I hit “slightly viscous” I actually gagged.

    Let’s harness your power with words for good, ok?

  3. WHO WROTE YOU A MEAN LETTER? TELL ME SO THAT I MAY WIPE THEM FROM THIS EARTH.

    I can’t comment on the rest of your post because I am still dry heaving.

  4. I, uh, accidentally did that to a pedestrian off of Colfax, Denver’s dirtiest part of town. Not French Quarter dirty, but dirty nonetheless. I felt really bad about it for 10 seconds.

    -B

  5. Re: the letter. Fuck that bitch. It says far more about the writer’s insecurities than it does about yours.

    And if she’s reading these comments? Yeah, you? Fuck you.

    Re: sewer water. Harnessing the ability to control rats could come in handy working for the Attorney General.

  6. Oh, VOMIT.

    Hey, just think — now you can sit and await the gastrointestinal consequences just like those of us in Vancouver who keep forgetting not to brush their teeth with the tap water, but without the weeks of water-boiling to follow. Efficient!

  7. Can I control rats by growing them to gargantuan dimensions, like in the Talons of Weng-Chiang? Because that would be totally gnarly!

    ps – Why don’t I have a f*&^%@ Doctor Who icon? That’s just retarded. Will work on rectifying that situation tomorrow.

  8. Yes, but did you get it IN HER MOUTH? I mean, how good is your aim?
    Because this cabbie was all up in the goalie net. This cabbie was like the freaking David Beckham of vehicular water sports. He shoots, he scores!

    And I’m sure that those 10 seconds were a genuine moment of heartfelt regret. Fleeting, yet heartfelt regret.

  9. All I’m hearing from that is “your writing is so damn good it made me want to puke”.

    La la la la la I can’t hear anything else la la la.

  10. Yes, but we’ve been meaning to speak to you about those tailfeathers and your night-cooing…

  11. Whamo! An instant force-field has developed around my mouth preventing males of all ages from wanting to engage in tongue-duelling with me ever again!

    Presenting, the amazing Celibate Woman!

    One whiff of her unusually powerful radioactive halitosis can render an unsuspecting enemy paralysed for life! Beware the Jaws of Death. Mwah ha ha ha. I’ll get you next time, Gadget, etc.

    I can’t believe I swallowed freaking street sludge. Without a supervillain administering it to me hypodermically while all my limbs are in restraints, there’s just no excuse.

  12. I have a bunch of DOCTOR WHO icons. This one is probably my favorite.

    And yeah, you can have gargantuan rats, but only if they look like big fluffy stuffed animals, like they do in TALONS OF WENG-CHIANG. They’re right up there with the Yeti in the “supposed to be terrifying, but are really just kind of cute” category.

  13. If you knew anything about East Colfax, where I was, that first sentence would be unbelievably hilarious. I don’t know if I got the money shot past the uvula, but she was so surprised, mouth agape afterwards, I think I might have.

    Re: Regret
    Actually, I sort of laughed a guilty ha ha, I say someone trip and fall on their face sort of laugh. You don’t want to laugh but it is too funny not to.

    …then I felt bad for a few seconds.

    Then I sniggered all the way to work. And felt bad.

  14. That is pretty gross, sewer sludge, *shudder*. At a job I once had sewer sludge “attack” me by rising from the sewer grates in the bathroom floor. Not cool. Not at all.

  15. There! Now I have one of my patented “too many damn images for a rotating GIF” icons, with all of the Doctors represented.

    It matches my “every damn character from Rome” icon, my “way overpacked Dune icon”, my “lots o’ imaginary television vacation locations” icon and my “BSG scariest things” icon.

    It’s probably time for me to start making some stationary icons that show only one picture, so people don’t get dizzy reading my LJ. Oh well.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *