and entering

You May Think You Have It Bad, but I Can’t Lick Doorknobs Anymore

A doorknob
Literally salivating right now.

By Your Local Doorknob Licker

All of you think you have it so bad--not being able to go to your favorite restaurant, catch a movie with your new crush, or have that fifth gin and tonic at the local bar in another fit of self loathing--but let me tell you something… You do not know true anguish until you have your one passion in life ripped from your hands because some fuckers decided not to wash their hands.  

When I go to my favorite restaurant, it’s not to eat the food, but to lick every single door knob in the building.  They have this sort of, I don’t know, spice to them.  You know the craving you have for Taco Bell three times a week?  The way your mouth waters at the thought of crispy tacos? That’s exactly what I experience, except instead of satisfying my craving with a mild cheese burrito, I pop a doorknob in my mouth and begin to salivate like one of Pavlov’s goddamn dogs. 

It’s gotten to a point where every morning before the sun rises I have to drive to at least 25 different establishments in town to give their doorknobs a lick.  Your local coffee shop? Been there. That Applebee’s uptown? Done that. All before dawn, baby. And I just don’t limit myself to doorknobs--door handles, push bars, and I even sometimes treat myself to a spin in one of those rotating doors for a little bit of a joy ride.  

I know what you’re thinking—that is sick, but you don’t see me judging you when you sneeze into your hands or eat that French fry off the floor.  All I ever asked for was to keep that nasty shit to yourself, because guess what, now you’ve ruined it for all of us.  I can’t even make my morning rounds without getting pulled over by a statie telling me I need to return home in the ‘name of public health,’ when he doesn’t even know what my intentions were for the morning!  Maybe if you guys can take an extra thirty seconds of your extremely busy lives to wash that Cheeto dust out from under your fingernails, I can get back to doing what I really love: lickin’ some knobs. 

Oh, and one more thing: my friend wanted you to know that he’s pretty pissed he can’t breathe into people’s mouths anymore.   

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