Wouldn’t you know. While I’m seeking to collect myself to type up my next heartfelt post, something like this happens:
My windshield wipers are almost useless. Luckily the driver’s side works OK, as long as I’m not going any faster than 50 MPH or so. After that, the wind pulls them away from the windshield. The passenger side doesn’t do much more than smear the dirty spray that I’m trying to wipe off.
I was pretty sick of my windshield being dirty all the time and the combination of my wipers and windshield wash doing nothing more than making mud. Last night a new and innovative way to clean the windshield suddenly came to me.
As any youngster knows “God made dirt; dirt don’t hurt!” I decided to try to clean the windshield with my tongue. My tongue, see, is wet, just like the wipers after I spray the wash on. As opposed to the wipers, though, my tongue is cleaned off each time I retract it into my mouth.
At first I just took as test lick. You can’t trust everything you hear on the playground, you know. That test lick was all it took to get me hooked. Soon I was running my tongue up my windshield in vigorous strokes. I found that the more mud I could hold on my tongue, the better the experience. I methodically began to take gigantic licks, starting at the bottom of the windshield and ending at the top. At the top, my tongue was piled in dirt and mud, but, oh, that was the joy if it. After a few more minutes I found that I couldn’t hold back the rest of my body from joining in. I climbed up onto the hood of the car, ignoring the muddy mess I was getting all over my clothing. I could not control my tongue to mere methodical swipes up, but instead I found it jerking to various parts of the windshield with a mind of its own. At that point the rest of my face was able to join in. My cheeks rubbed dirt off, my forehead and even my ears got in on the action. (You might be surprised how much dirt you can hold in your ears!) When I lost complete control, my entire body was spasmodically jerking all over the windshield in chaotic attempts to clean it off and satisfy this new dirt-lust I had acquired. My lips, cracked and bleeding, left frightening prints and my hair changed from merely brownish to dirt-tan.
When it was finally over, I lay on the hood breathing heavy and trying to re-orient myself. I found my lack of control embarrassing. Reentering the house, I found I could not look my wife in the eye. As she gasped in shock all I could do was walk to the shower and try to wash off the filth that suddenly seemed to be all through me.
Some things you can never seem to completely clean from your body. This embarrassing escapade may be one of them.