Breath Cancer Awareness

I now know that God hates me. This theological certainty was made manifest when I had to endure a 45 minute car ride with the 2008 winner of the Miss Worst Breath in the Cosmos pageant. For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call her Halle. Halle Tosis. And ladies and gentlemen, it was bad. I’m not talking about your basic run of the mill self-consciousness due to post-lunch breath. This brand of stank had its origins in the gut, which raised an eyebrow as to the true business end of a colonoscopy. And unfortunately, Halle’s degree of rankosity was matched only by her penchant for chattiness.

Equally horrifying was the fact that she was (or appeared to be) completely oblivious to my mortal peril. Completely unaware of a mouth so dirty that even Orbits couldn’t clean it up. I’m talking about breath that could contaminate formaldehyde. No, this was an evil that refused to be exorcised despite the aid of a young priest and an old priest. I had half a mind to send her unclean self to New York in the slim hopes that she would touch the pope’s garment.

The seemingly endless drive threw me into a state of paranoia. I continually glanced at the side view mirrors, half expecting to see a train of black SUVs that would whisk us away to some abandoned warehouse. After subsequent hours of waterboarding and ruinous questioning, they would still fail to see that I was unintentionally trafficking WMDs. Biological warfare notwithstanding, somehow I think we were more inclined to tip off the Ghost Hunters. And maybe it was just the way she looked at me, but I’m pretty sure she’s housing the Smoky Monster from LOST.

Despite the limited oxygen supply, I clearly surmised that this abomination was not something that the human body would just let happen. An olfactory fuss of this magnitude had to be actively pursued to create such a visceral revulsion in all five senses. So I present to you a proposed To-Do list for a day in the life of an ass-mouth:

• Wake up. Why waste your morning BM? Make a turd smoothie.
• Go to hair appointment. Get a perm. You hate it, so shave it off, set it on fire and consume the evidence.
• Turn compost pile. Keep hands germ free by using your mouth.
• Have a mid morning snack of Feces Pieces.
• Clean up local swamp by skimming pollutants off the surface with open mouth.
• Make out with Courtney Love.
• Indulge in your favorite chewy snack, zombie fetuses.
• Alleviate troublesome allergies with several breathing treatments of donkey farts.
• Return the favor by licking your pug’s open wounds.
• Head to Hunan’s for your favorite lunch, the pu pu platter.
• Avoid city fines by draining your stagnant backyard pond with a siphon.
• Remove hair clogs from sink with teeth.
• Tide yourself over with a gym sock sandwich.
• Conserve water by cleaning out public ashtrays with saliva.
• Celebrate Earth Day by consuming hot garbage from the dump.
• Transform taxidermy field by disemboweling roadkill with innovative “balloon blowing” technique.
• Get taste of Courtney Love out of your mouth with urinal cake.
• Prepare romantic dinner of seared beef butthole with cheesy smegma risotto, sautéed toenails and stinkbugs, boiled quarters, and a refreshing pitcher of iced sweat.
• Relax from a hard day’s work with a vodka and turpentine.
• Brush teeth with pigeon droppings, rinse with baby spit-up, and gargle with dog piss before turning in for the night.

But all is not lost, Halle. The addition of a lisp, while initially horrifying, could only result in a lucrative paint-stripping enterprise. We’ll call it AerASSol Conglomerate. And I hear that the Alien movie franchise is always looking to increase the realism of their acidic spit. While I’m thinking about it, I’m going to submit your name to HGTV as a guest expert on antiquing furniture, since you have what many have come to call “The Anti-Midas Touch.” You also have a potentially bright future in the field of sandblasting. The erosive quality of your simple "Hello"s has enough pressure to carve text into headstones. And let's face it, that'd be an ironic albeit small consolation to the world for all those you've sent to an early grave.