Until August 8th last year my life was going swimmingly well. I had well paid employment, a girlfriend whose beauty was the envy of my chums and….oh yes……I had chums as well. Whatever that date, August 8th last year was the day my nose began to run. Initially just a drip, then as the day wore on the drip become a flood, then the flood became a veritable waterfall. Armed with a box of tissues I took myself off round the quacks to see if he could prescribe me any medicine to relieve my plight. Sadly he could not. Even medical specialists afforded me no help basically saying that I was stuck with my runny nose for the rest of my days. August the fucking 8th.
At first I had no realisation as to how my life would change so dramatically for the worse. I was soon to find out though. Yes I should have had an inkling when just a short time into my runny nose phase my elder brother Cedric invited me to attend his stag night along with a bunch of his cronies. I turned up at the venue a little late I recall as I had forgotten my box of man-sized tissues and had to rush home to pick them for my snotter was gushing something chronic. Anyhow I must admit to being more than a little excited to find the venue was a pole dancing club. However just as I settled into to a chair and placed my box of tissues upon my lap the very pretty young lady who was about to remove her clothing in an erotic style as a pre-requisite to swinging from said pole bellowed out, “I’m not fucking performing in front of a pervert. Look at him he’s got tissues and I’ll lay odds he’s going to masturbate when the lights dim the dirty bastard. I know his fucking type.” With that a bouncer collared me and dragged me away eventually chucking me into the gutter yet not before punching me hard in the guts. Even my brother and his friends called me a ‘sicko’ and said they never wanted me in their company ever again. Word of this got out and now, even on Facebook I have no friends. My girlfriend disowned me as well putting a note through my letterbox just saying, ‘It’s over.’
I tried to look on the bright side yet it was with a heavy heart I went into work the next morning. At the time – when I had a job that is – I was employed as a life guard at our local swimming pool. Obviously I had my box of tissues with me so as to prevent my ever worsening nose torrents from polluting the pool. It was a Friday and as I sat poolside upon my high chair I realised it was the ‘ladies only’ synchronized swimming morning. I’ve always particularly enjoyed see all the pretty girls in their cozzes. However this morning the beautiful Amanda, the team leader spotted me with my box of tissues on my lap and demanded the manager sack me that instant as a leisure centre was no place for a weirdo. It was thus that I lost my job.
Depressed somewhat I meandered home yet feeling the need for a little sustenance I popped into Ethel’s Café and ordered up a takeaway bacon sandwich. And then events turned for the worse. I found myself a bench to sit on and having consumed my lunch I was taking time out thinking of my plight with, of course, my man-sized box of tissues upon my lap when a group of very angry, fierce even, women ventured toward me. I thought little of it initially then the first of many punches and kicks left me – nose still running like a lava flow I might add – in a crumpled heap on the pavement. The police eventually arrived and arrested me on the spot one copper saying, “You filthy piece of immorality; you scum bag. How did you think you’d get away with it sat right outside the gates of a girl’s only primary school? It’s little wonder those mum’s went for you as they did. You’d be better off dead.” I protested my innocence yet presently I am out on bail awaiting a trial date. I have been told to expect a custodial sentence though.
After eventually being released from my overnight cell and at my lowest ebb I popped into the local Spa shop on my way home my nose running worse than ever. You see I was in urgent need of a man-sized box of tissues as mine had been confiscated for forensic testing. Whilst in the Spa shop I picked up the tissues and decided to rent a DVD to watch later on. I chose Brokeback Mountain as it happens. In the queue to pay I soon became aware that others were looking at me in a strange way. First to utter words was old Grannie Fitzwarren stood behind me. “I know what you’re going to do when you get home and don’t think I haven’t seen what you’ve got in that basket, you depraved, disgusting, sick low-life’ she said with her face in mine. With that Jenny on the till screamed a scream of fear whereon Mr Patel the owner of the shop told me that I was distressing his patrons and promptly barred me from ever shopping in his establishment again.
The next day I decided to take an afternoon constitutional. My walk took me past the local cinema where I was taken aback by a poster affixed to the door. It was a mug shot of yours truly bearing the tag, ‘NO UNACCOMPANIED ADULT MALES CARRYING A BOX OF TISSUES ALLOWED IN THESE PREMISES.’ My heart sank to read those words. Salty tears rolled down my cheeks and a tsunami of snot gushed from my nose. I realized then that I was a broken man.
Is there no place safe for a man alone with a box of tissues? A woman with a runny nose would get all the sympathy in the world. Why me?