Why is your skin covered in poison?
Short story: nature is an angry bitch. Long story: me and a friend decided it would be really romantic and grand to pull off the side of the freeway and hike a trailless mountain by clawing our way up a sheer face through dozens of types of unidentified plants, many of which, it turns out, do nothing all day but manufacture poison. In fact, it is my recommendation to the President that we begin an investigation of these plants, because honestly, can we trust something that is virtually made of poison? Other than me, I mean.
Here is a graph, illustrating the careful balance between how awesome/romantic that experience was vs. the pain and suffering I have suffered as a result. As you can see, it was “worth it” for quite some time, but that may no longer be the case.
Where is your skin covered in poison?
Mostly the extremities, although I fear that in the night the deadly rash has begun a concentrated move towards the genitals. If it has, in fact, become sentient, I doubt there is much our nuclear arsenal will be able to do against the onslaught. I imagine irradiating the poison would just make it angry and, possibly, able to shoot lasers.
What is your skin covered in?
Poison. I feel that I’ve covered that.
Who is your skin covered in poison?
Okay, now you’re not even making sense. Either I’ve finally succumbed to the hallucinogenic effects of the poison or you’re an elementary school child asking rote questions for a newsletter. Please, stop wasting my time, or I’ll have to rub myself on you.
What are some common reactions to your condition?
- “I thought smallpox had been eliminated”
- “KILL IT! KILL THE FREAK!”
- “Look mommy, a rash-man!”
- “I forsake thee, my God, for what you hath wrought.”
- “I think we should see other people.”
- “You can eat outside. You’re frightening your mother.”
- Intense sexual attraction (only happened once; I think she thought I was Bruce Willis)
Is there treatment?
I think a more pertinent question would be “is there any hope for humanity?” And, frankly, while my skin is covered in poison, no, I don’t think so. But, if you must forestall your inevitable collapse into an itchy mound of quivering red flesh, you can apply liberal amounts of a miracle drug called Calamine Lotion. If I could impart only two words to you, these would be them. Slather it on. Bathe in it. Inject it into your bloodstream like the sweet antidote it is. No, it won’t actually cure the disease, but as a high-powered opiate it will momentarily make you forget that you are dying of poisoned skin. I can hardly believe the stuff isn’t prescription; it’s like pink chalky heroin. So, yeah, elementary school kid…go to town.
Anyway, I’d say that I hope this information helps all of you, but by being in the same room with me you’re all most likely now covered in poison. So, firstly, welcome hell, and secondly, I wish you a swift and merciful death. May Sumac have mercy on your souls.