Post a Comment On: Internal Monologue

Nostril Salsa

I was in Picante today. My wife was getting our table ready, and she obtained two bottles of salsa sauce: one red and one green. These were transparent grey plastic bottles with a squirt top of the kind often used for ketchup and mustard. The squirt tops had been trimmed to enlarge the hole at the end of the nozzle in order to accommodate the chunkier consistency of the salsa.

My first thought on seeing these two bottles was that I should sieze them and shove the nozzles up my nose as far as possible and squeeze on them as hard as I could. The nozzles seemed to be the exact right size to shove up my nose, and they seemed to call out to be shoved up my nose. This is not the first time I've thought of shoving one of those bottles up my nose, but it is the first time I thought of doing so with two bottles simultaneously.

But a difficult choice immediately presented itself to me: Which bottle should go up which nostril? Should the red salsa bottle go in the left nostril, and the green go in the right, or vice versa? It seemed terribly important that I get this right, or the entire endeavor would be pointless and accomplish nothing. Immediately, a solution presented itself to me: I should follow the nautical convention that the port-side light on a boat is red, and the starboard-side is green. Thus, the red salsa should be forcibly injected up my left nostril, and the green salsa up my right.

I experienced a great deal of satisfaction upon arriving at this conclusion, and was absolutely convinced of its correctness. I was then able to consume my three soft-shell steak tacos with guacamole and accompanying black beans with complete serentity and composure, without being plagued with irrational urges concerning the condiments and my nasal passages.