Hell hath no fury as a man betrayed -
and betrayal by one's own flesh and blood, most vile.

Mushroom clouds explode in the visions of my wrath.

Entire cities are swept away by my anger.


I do not see the source of my rage, but I feel fully its effects. My blood boils at the sheer gall, the impudence, the disrespect.

I am left with but a single choice.



I must destroy my sinuses.


Maybe not all; for I believe that the frontal, sphenoid, and ethmoid sinuses are innocent in this matter. No, the attack is clearly coming from the maxillaries. But of what good is it if I quell the maxillary riot, only to have to deal with a ethmoid rebellion later? Nay, I must destroy them all, and let all my other organs learn a lesson in deterrence.

I must nuke the site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

It didn't have to be this way. It was just a little bit of pollen in the air; a mote of dust; a speck of mold, perhaps. Just a tiny little atom. And yet the sinuses chose war over a tiny provocation of their sovereign territory. It will prove their undoing.

Even now, I feel the maxillary sinuses prepare for another attack. The little tickle in the space underneath the left eye means that they are damming the gates, and readying an devastating flood of watery mucus. I must strike quickly.

It is not easy to stick a .40 caliber barrel up one's nose, but I do it, because it must be done. Now some may say that a .40 is overkill, that a .22 would do just as well - but I want to be absolutely sure that my sinuses are dead. No sense in half-measures, not now.

I'll show them.

I'll show them all.