There’s someone I want to introduce you to, if only because he’s going to die soon. He’s literally been a HUGE part of every waking (and sleeping) moment for the past 23 years, and I’ve hated the bastard for about as long.
His name is Quasimonose. He lives on my face. And in June, I’m going to kill him.
Quasimonose is a life-sucking waste of space, responsible for years of emotional and physical pain. I’m going to enjoy the day they butcher him, and if I could have it done sooner and slower, I would.
Rooney the Gooney is doing the hit. He’s tall and lanky and quick with the knife. I found him through a friend of a friend, who told me Rooney wacks guys like Quasi at least 3 times a week. The day of the hit it’ll be sunny and early. Quasi will be just warming up his torture routine with a sneeze and a sniffle. Then, BLAM! He won’t know what hit him. I almost wish he could see it coming.
My hatred of Quasi all started when I was a kid. He and I were friends of proximity, growing up together in the house on Mary Ellen. But that all changed as soon as he went hangin’ on the street with Dog, Cat, Juniper, and Cottonwood. They were bad news. And they had it out for me. Big time.
Those street goons knew my old man from back in the day when they ran with the Airborne Family, also known as, ‘God and Everything’, who gave him the squeeze on a regular basis. When they heard about me, it was just a matter of time.
*****************
SCENE Spring time. 5th grade. Rows of desks are lined up at a perfect 90 degree angle from a wall of windows that looks out on a sunny, dusty New Mexican playground. All the mid-row windows are open to let in the breeze. Children dressed in blue plaid uniforms and white shirts are bent over, silently taking a test.
Jules, age 10: *SNIFFFLE!*
Sound of pencils furiously scribbling.
Jules: *Gasp* HA. AUGH. ACHOOOO!
Pencils pause.
Jules: *SNORT*
Kid #1, whispering sideways: “SHUT UP! My God, you’re disgusting.”
Wiping her nose angrily with a disintegrating Kleenex, Jules keeps looking down.
Kid #2: “Yeah. You’re GROSS.”
Sister Maria: “No talking!”
Pencils continue. Kid #2 pokes Jules in the back.
Kid #2: “Would you teach me to pick my nose? Please? I want to be disgusting.”
Jules: “Sister Maria?”
Sister Maria: “What is it, Julia?”
Jules: “I need to go to the nurse.”
Sister Maria: “You’ll have to wait ‘til you’re done with your test.”
Jules: “Could we close the windows? I have really bad hay fever. I feel like I’m going to die.”
Sister Maria: “You can die on your own time. Finish your test or you’ll meet God with an empty, sinful mind. He’ll be ashamed of you and hate you and send you straight to hell.”
*****************
SCENE Spring time. Allergist’s office. Lots of adults are sitting in chairs reading Newsweek. A poster illustrating the nine thousand different allergy pills currently available hangs on the wall. Alongside another showing the anatomy and function of the nose. A plastic, lifeless beige-colored model of a skinless human head sits on the table. Various pieces are littered around its base; waiting for someone bored enough to put it together.
Jules, age 11: *SNIFFFLE* *COUGH* *HACK*
Mad Allergy Scientist: “Hi Jules. My name is Dr. Mad Jack McMad. Come on back, take your shirt off and lie down on your tummy.”
Jules: *SNORT* “ummm…bokay.”
Dr. Mad Jack McMad: “I’m going to poke your back with about 400 different things. Depending on which ones turn red, we’ll know if you’re allergic. OK?”
Jules: “Suck. It.”
Twenty minutes later, Dr. McMad returns to check the pin pricks. Marks from ‘dog’, ‘cat’, and ‘cottonwood’ pins are mildly red. Marks from ‘juniper’ pin is a huge, red, blistering sore.
Dr. Mad Jack McMad: “Bwah ha ha! Good news! You’re deathly allergic to the scourge plant of New Mexico. I’ll have to stick you with my needles of death and misery. Starting NOW.”
Jules: “Wait a second. Why the hell would you do that?”
Dr. Mad Jack McMad: “Well, first, because I get off on it. And second, to build up your immunity.”
Jules: “Ok, none of that makes a damn lick of sense. Allergies aren’t like colds. They don’t go away, that’s WHY THEY’RE ALLERGIES.”
Dr. Mad Jack McMad: “Excuse me. I’m the doctor. You’re the kid. Shut up and sit still while I give you this massive shot of Juniper juice.”
Jules: “Fucking OW!”
Dr. Mad Jack McMad: “Alrighty then. Just as soon as you recover from the colossal reaction you’re about to have, you c’mon back and we’ll do it again.”
Jules: “Die. Die. May your face melt off and DIE.”
*****************
SCENE Spring time. Dr. Mad Jack McMad’s office, 5 years later. The same patients are in the same waiting room, under the same posters with the same face puzzle, looking out with its dead eyes into the unchanging space of a built-in income.
Dr. Mad Jack McMad: “How we doin’ today?”
Jules: “Same as always. Pretty fucking ass-face bad.”
Dr. Mad Jack McMad, absent-mindedly filling another needle of death: “Uh-huh. Good. Good.”
Jules: “So I’m not coming back. Like, ever.”
Dr. Mad Jack McMad: “Well, I really don’t think that’s wise. Without these shots, you’d be much worse.”
Jules: “Really? And how long do you think I’ll have to take these shots?”
Dr. Mad Jack McMad: “The rest of your life.”
Jules: *SNIFFFFLE* “Kiss my ass.”
*****************
SCENE Spring time. College Health Center. Sitting on an exam table, Jules continually swipes at her eyes and her nose. Red and swollen, she’d like to just lie down on the table and die. But she’s not entirely sure her brain wouldn’t ooze out her ears.
Dr. Mc Five-second Man: “So, what’s the problem today?”
Jules: “I can’t breathe. At. ALL. And I have this shit leaking out my eyes.”
Dr. Mc Five-second Man: “Hmmm. Interesting.”
Jules: “LISTEN. I couldn’t open my eyes this morning. The lids were fucking FUSED TOGETHER. When I sat up, buckets of goo dripped out. This is NASTY. Fix. It. NOW.”
Dr. Mc Five-second Man: “So, sounds like you’re a little congested. Here’s a prescription for a decongestant and some antibiotics. See ya.”
*****************
SCENE Spring time. Winter time. ANY time. Between the ages of 20 and 32. Guess where? Fucking Doctor’s office.
Dr. EveryDoctor: “Hi. How are you?”
Jules: “I suck, thanks. Would be nice to breathe. Also? My head is killing me.”
Dr. EveryDoctor: “Sounds like you’re a little congested. Here’s a prescription for a decongestant and some antibiotics. See ya.”
*****************
SCENE February 2007. Ears, Nose and Throat exam room. Hanging over the table, a poster of the ‘normal’ human nasal cavity with comparison illustrations shows a variety of disgusting problems.
Dr. Rooney: “Hey there. I’m Dr. Rooney. What brings you to see me today?”
Jules: “This dental scan. Apparently, my jaw is all jacked up from High School orthodontics. They noticed I have a deviated septum and said I should check it out.”
Dr. Rooney: “Ok. Well, a lot of people have deviated septums and do just fine their whole lives. How well would you say you can breathe through your nose?”
Jules: “I would say my nose hasn’t worked worth crap my whole life, that I hate it and that I’d pay you whatever you ask to hack it off right here, right now.”
Dr. Rooney: “Okey-day. We should do a CAT Scan and see what’s going on in there.”
Jules: “Sign me up.”
Dr. Rooney: “Now, you’re probably fine. But if you do need surgery, there’s one thing to keep in mind.”
Jules: “What’s that?”
Dr. Rooney: “If you ever plan on doing…cosmetic work, you might want to wait. Nose jobs use the material we’d take to correct your septum. So you might not be able to do it later.”
Jules: “Noted.”
Wow. Wouldn’t it be great if I COULD get a nose job…slice three inches off that fat… Wait. Did he say that because I really DO look like I need one?!
*****************
SCENE Three weeks later. Dr. Rooney enters the exam room to discuss the results of Jules’ scans.
Jules: “Hey doc. What’s the verdict?”
Dr. Rooney: “Sooooo, yeah. Uh, I looked at your scans.”
Jules: “And?”
Dr. Rooney: “Hrum. Well, here’s a reatively ‘normal’ sinus scan…”
Dr. Rooney: “and this is you.”
Dr. Rooney: “You have a severe deviation on one side. And an unusually large turbinate on the other. There’s like, ZERO air getting through.”
Jules: “THE NOT BREATHING. IS WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING. DUH!!”
Dr. Rooney: “You have a couple options. Obviously, you’ve been living this way for a really long time, and you’re fine.”
Jules: “I wouldn’t call it living. Or fine.”
Dr. Rooney: “I could just give you a prescription for sprays & decongestants you can take for the rest of your life.”
Jules: “Or?”
Dr. Rooney: “We can do surgery. I’d be removing most of the cartilage and bone behind your nose, and scraping your sinuses.”
Jules: “Cut the fucker up, doc.”
….
Make your peace, Quasi. It’s been hell knowin’ ya.
© 2008 – 2011, jules.maas. All rights reserved.
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Thanks, all! I guarantee I’ll be doing a follow up or seven on this.
I am POSITIVE that whatever they do, it can’t possibly be worse than how I’ve been.
Plus, it would be really great to smell things. Like say, fire.
Ditto – good luck – let us know how it turns out – and I hope it’s all for the best…. I’d love to know you’re feeling better than you have in years.
Wow double whammy! Most have a hard enough time breathing with a deviated septum.. way to go the extra mile. Cant wait to see the after pic
Woohoo! I hope it works out like they hope it will!
I do like the quaisimonose…its a great term!