S53

Minister Lev swirls up the final tally of our mission progress, droning on about failure and disappointment. Blah blah catastrophe and whatnot.

He doesn’t seem to understand my current crisis. My attention is concentrated on my left nostril.

There is a point where nasal phlegm can reach a state that is rubbery but not sufficiently sticky. No matter how hard I dig with my index finger, the wad of phlegm refuses to adhere to my finger’s skin and thereby be pulled forth.

But I refuse to give in. Probing deeper, I manage to smash the phlegmwad against my sinus passage, spreading it more adequately along my finger.

I grunt in joy as the phlegmwad is dragged forth. And yet there’s more to it. A lengthy trailing mass of viscous phlegm continues to exit my nasal passage, until my finger is a respectable distance from my nose. Finally, the snake-like formation swings free.

I shout in joy at successfully removing the dangling mass. I marvel at the light glinting off its slick texture as it swings in a grand pendulum.

I realize that others are watching. I hold my prize higher. Surely, they too are impressed with my achievement.

In “Artiste”, draw a small outhouse.

In the “Duty” box, draw three tiny sad faces.