tickle (part two)
horrors & dread #37b: Here's the next part to the ongoing adventures of someone trying to get a wasp out of their sinus. Enjoy!
Not read Part One? Give it a read here.
I close my mouth tight, both lips gripping desperately onto each other, as I lean over the sink in the bathroom. Then, with a deep breath curled in my lungs, I push it all out through my nose. I feel a small shift in my forehead, but not enough. It’s like having something stuck in your teeth, it just feels wrong until you finally get it out. I grip my nose shut and try breathing out again, hoping that build up of pressure will do something but nothing changes. Instead, all I can feel is the buzzing.
In the cabinet I look for anything that could help. Cotton buds, moisturisers, bottles and jars of various skincare stuff - then my eyes fall on the mouthwash. Just the sight of it is enough to visualise the pain I would be in. No, there must be another way…
I spot the Vicks chest rub.
That’s better. Less drastic. I snatch it from the shelf and roll the top off before digging two fingers into the waxy paste. The lid rattles noisily off the bathroom tiles and I spread a scoop of it under my nostrils then breath in deeply. I feel the peppermint-ish vapour open up my entire mind, like a window installed between my eyes.
The buzzing stops.
Thank God, I think. I’ve got it.
Is this relief? No. The silence is worse. Dead or not, I still need it out. I can still feel it up there. It’s little corpse starting to decompose. I go back to hastily blowing my nose and after a few I feel it move a little more. Progress! I think only for a soft wriggle to start. It’s still alive! The squirming freaks me out more than the buzzing had. What was it doing? Dying hopefully? But my traitor brain gets the better of me.
Maybe it’s burrowing?
NOPE. Not okay with that.
I start to spiral. I can feel my reason failing.
I fear the pain I’m about to inflict on myself but there’s no time to argue. I grab the mouthwash and twist the lid off its neck. With a shaking hand I fill the two-inch cap full of Listerine before holding it under my nose. My vision ripples in waves with the fumes of the alcohol. Before I can reconsider or talk myself out of it, I close my eyes and plunge my nose deep into the cap and inhale deeply.
Fireworks go off behind my eyes. I visualise the wasp exploding like the toxic waste guy in Robocop as the mouthwash disintegrates it. As the vision fades the agony sets in. My whole sinus burns like a STI. I cough as mouthwash drips down the back of my throat, out into my mouth and splutters from my nose.
I stand there gasping for breath. Every tube inside aches, my hearing blips in and out, and my head hammers as my body rebels against what I’ve done. I squeeze my eyes shut and just wait for the stinging misery to fade which, thankfully, it does.
Still hunched over the sink I carefully open my eyes. The plug hole stares back at me, around it the ceramic is awash with mouthwash froth. I watch it swirl and run down the drain. Then I spot something in the lather – something I think are bubbles at first, but they aren’t.
They’re eggs.
Photo by Tehzeeb Kazmi on Unsplash