Something in my throat.

by Nic Olson

Tonsillitis. Laryngitis. Gingivitis. Streptococcus.

Which of these doesn’t belong?

Trick question, none of them belong, because this I’m not an otolaryngologist and this isn’t a thesis. But the more correct answer would be ‘Streptococcal’ because it doesn’t end in ‘-itis’… Or Gingivitis, because it is the only one based on fairy tales.

Last weekend, in the middle of the French part of the woods, I vomited over ten times in half of a day. Afterwards the barmaid I was camping with stated that I had released more stomach fluids than anyone she’d ever seen. Food poison, or a parasite, or an esophagus that wanted to be inside out. But afterwards, through the streams of fiery demons, my throat swelled in protest, making even the smoothest strawberry quiver at the sight of the picketing tonsils. And a week later, inexplicably, after settlements were made and papers were signed, the tonsils went back to the picket lines, and swallowing has become an affair of the scabs.

The throat’s arch enemy is the choke. Some people are successful from the choke. Like Henry Heimlich, inventor of the Heimlich Maneuver. Or the ghosts of chickens and fish, causing slightly obese humans to accidentally swallow their bodily remains. But a damaged throat, is a damaged soul. And I am wounded.

We’ve had the last episode of Lost, now let’s start a new series, called Win.

-Ron Maclean, Game One

Aside: Let’s hope that Chicago doesn’t choke as did New Jersey, Boston and Montreal. Philly is only successful on the choke.

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