Help! Talk me Down! I'm being smothered by giant pine cones!!!

I hab a code.

Waybit a mibbut. I geb a tissue.

I have a cold. I’m a real tough guy. Nothing bothers me.

What nothing?

No. Nothing!

What nothing?

Well. Hardly nothing.

Hardly nothing bothers him! So give three cheers and one cheer more for Scylla the conservative mysoginistic bore. so give three cheers and one cheer more for the stoic conservative mysoginistic bore!
Ummm otay. Where wub I? Hold on again.


Ok. I’ll go quick before the snot comes back. Nothing confronts me much, but there are two important exceptions. The dentist, and I have really bad teeth, and the second thing is a cold.

Everybody in the family has a mild cold. Mine of course has left me a crying miserable self-pitying baby an inch from death with a horrible post-nasal drip.

Everybody else is just dealing with it, and going about there lives, but I’m complainy and miserable.

We all went to bed at like 9, and I took some Nyquil, except I couldn’t fall asleep. The Nyquil fugue crept over me, and I got the desperate tosses, the excruciating thirsts, and the achey-breaky colon.

Don’t break my colon, my achey breaky colon.
I just don’t think you’d understand. Cause if you break my colon
my achey breaky colon I just might poop on your hand…

Oh yeah, and the night sweats.

And then the giant pine cones started smothering me. They’d roll out of the darkness and sit on top of the covers while I choke on snot and they smush me and smush me and roll and smother.

So I got up. I know the pine cones aren’t really there. As I sit here typing these giant pine cones are somewhat sanguine concerning their nonexistence. It’s not much of a problem for them. They’re just sitting there waiting on the edge of my peripheral vision waiting for me to slip back into the fugue of my bad Nyquil trip, and when I do, they’re going to start rolling over me again and again.

Boy I really don’t like the Pine cones. There’s a reason I usually don’t try to take medication. It gets all weird on my, and now I’m sitting here with hot eyballs and metal-tasting teeth about to be smothered by giant pine cones.

If only I’d fallen asleep, it would just be a dream.

I’m a hurting unit.

Scylla, you’re going to be okay. You’re safe here at the SDMB. Don’t worry about the pine cones. You know they’re not real. And if they were real, your wife would kill them for you. Keep breathing now; that’s it. You’ll be yourself again in the morning.

Snif, sniffle, HONK

I hab a cold too. I’b not supposed to hab a cold! I’b a healthy teenager, I neber get sick!


Okay, maybe I do have a cold. I’ll just sit here, keep you company and help you fend off the killer pinecones, how 'bout that?

Grabs a sledgehammer and a box of tissues and settles down next to Scylla

Just watch out for the killer SOS scouring pads that sneak up into your sinuses while you sleep.

At least, that’s what it felt like was in there last time I had a code id by dose. (That would also be the time my best friend laughed at me for saying, “I dote talk like this dorbally.”)

(Jimmy Carter)

Ok, Scylla. I think what you’ve taken is some purple barrel NyQuil. The effects are going to last for about another six hours, but you’re going to be OK.

Do you have some music you could put on? Maybe some James Taylor or some Allman Brothers? If you have a beer, it might be a good idea to drink it, just to help you relax.

This isn’t the time to lecture you about drugs, so I’m not going to do that. Just remember that we’re all loving beings and that you’re going to be allright."

(Jimmy Carter)

I am laughing my head off over here. This is hilarious, especially because I just got over about 5 months of a non-stop runny nose. I can cheerfully sit here and breathe freely while you all sniffle and snork.

Except…OH NO! It’s Spring. The allergies, the allergies…the horror!



Bless you!

::::hands over tissue:::::

:::::hands over squeegee::::::::::::

Mr. Scylla? I’m afraid it’s bad news. It seems you’ve caught the rockin’ pneumonia and the boogie-woogie flu. Fortunately, the rest of your family just has a bad case of lovin’ you; while no pills gonna cure their ills, it’s not anything to worry about.**

It’s worse than I thought – you’ve got the Cyrus Virus as well. If you keep getting this feeling, you may have to resort to Sexual Healing.

Have you tried rubbing Vicks Vapor Rub under your nose and on your chest? I think if your SO does it for you, it works even better :wink:

I remember once, when I was a teenager, I was visiting cousins out of town and came down with a miserable cold. Sick, but not wanting to miss out on the fun, I stayed up late playing Tripoli with everyone. I don’t recall exactly how Tripoli was played, but I think it was various poker games. It involved cards, at any rate. I was adminstered cold medicine, and went feverishly to bed.

All night long I was tortured by cards. The Jack of Diamonds kept sitting on my chest. I tossed and turned and was assaulted by Royal Flushes and evil queens. I’d wake up, stagger to the bathroom to get something to drink, collapse back into bed and pull the heavy quilt over my body. The quilt that immediately turned into a heavy, malovelent Ace or a menacing King and his pokey sword.

I rarely take cold medicine any more, and just suffer through it. 20 years later, and I recall that night so vividly!

Get better, Scylla. You too, Cougarfang.

Mmm, Nyquil. Doesn’t bother me a bit. Maybe it’s because the hallucinations caused by the Nyquil don’t rise above my steady-state insanity, so I don’t notice them.

Slightly more OT, have you tried nasal irrigation? :wink:

I feel for you. I don’t know if this works on pine cones, but it seems to help my daughter with her monster issues.

“No pine cones at Scylla’s house. 2trew does not allow pine cones. If any pine cones come, we beat 'em up and throw 'em out the window. Are there any pinecones at Scylla’s house?”

(You’re supposed to say “NO!” here.)

“Right. Now sleep good, little one.”

We can skip the kissing part, on account of you being a conservative and all.

I want some of Scylla’s Nyquil 'cause this sissy herbal junk I’ve got doesn’t make my owies go away or put me out so I don’t care. Right now, I would kill for giant pinecones.

Also, who’s got my turquoise blue washcloth? It’s the official washcloth for feverish foreheads and I can’t find it anywhere. Cougarfang? Scylla?

Blame the blimp.

The Horror of Blimps Continues!