Like the title says, I'm being oppressed by water. Some call it the elixir of life. I call it the elixir of hell.
"It's clear, and you need it to survive!" Sure, just go on drinking that insidious, faceless sludge like a huge idiot while I enjoy my Pepsi, RC and other soft drinks. Do you wonder why they call them "soft" drinks? Because the hard drink is water, which is hard to drink because of its horrible taste.
Despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that I choose not to consume it, water relentlessly hounds, berates, embarrasses and controls me. That's why I never leave the house without my Brolly, which combines brass-knuckles with the standard umbrella of protection. It keeps the rain off, and the knuckle design means any joker who wants to approach me with a water pistol will think twice. Laughing children and morons who welcome a cloud's dark reproach don't understand. They'll let the sky pour insults on them, drop by drop, until they are heavy with shame.
When I don't have a spare hand for my Brolly, I grab my Nubrella on the way out the door. Goes right on my shoulders, rain or shine. You never know who might be standing around the corner with a hose or watering can, part of the global quest to dampen your hair and head. I've even seen a tank of water at a fair where if you're not careful, they'll grab you, and make you sit on a lever. A laughing man aims his baseball, and the lever falls, and down you go. The crowd laughs. That's what they wanted. A dry man to go wet.
A friend wants to walk with me? Easy. Double umbrella. I don't let friends get wet. "I'll just walk in the rain," they'll offer, but I smile and shake my head. That's why I bought the double umbrella. $60 of friend protection. When you're all alone, dying, and your friends have forgotten you, my friends will be there with me, during my own deathbed scenario, to watch me pass into the next life. Actually I'll probably outlive you and my friends thanks to staying dry for so long, but it's the thought that counts.
You might put your dog in the bathtub and spray him, but he hates it. That's because dogs know more than us about what's healthy. They're closer to nature. When they live in nature, they have to be wet all the time, in the forest, or the ocean. But once you take a dog into your home, it's your responsibility to protect him from the scourge of wetness. So you need a pet umbrella. A natural dog would live a soaked life and not even know that there's a better way, but your dog deserves dryness.
Now, this... This is ridiculous. A typical attempt to water-shame me. "Here, have an umbrella hat." Gross. I'm not a circus clown, or a wine freako, or a pool-skimmer. I'm a human, and I deserve some dignity. Water is a serious threat, not a joke, or a Halloween costume. Drink your cloud-juice if you must, but leave me out of your intolerance. To me, you're swigging hate, and that's nothing but poison.
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
Can't tell a drinking fountain from a urinal? We've got you covered. Brush up on your drinking fountain enthusiast -- or sipper -- vocabulary and learn to talk and swap sips with the best of them.
Drew Fairweather goes through hundreds of Things for Sale every month, and he saves the worst of the Worst for Something Awful readers!