The Art Of Dying

(I have an unusual allergy that is very severe. I discovered in second grade that I was allergic to oil pastels, and have since realized that my allergy is airborne if people use the pastels around me. The unlikeliness of the allergy and the severity of it often lead people to believe it’s fake. However, this instance really takes the cake. Keep in mind that this person is a friend of mine that I have repeatedly talked to about my allergy.)

Me: “Man, I was really upset in physics today.”

Friend: “Why?”

Me: “Someone moved the pastel picture and set it on a counter next to my seat. I wish I knew who it was. I might have gotten some pastel on me!”

Friend: “Ha ha, yeah. That’d be pretty annoying.”

Me: “I mean, they might have just not known, but I’m still pretty frustrated. I would have put it back where it was, except, you know, I might have died.”

Friend: *pauses for a moment* “Oh, I get it! You mean like dying from being annoyed!”

Me: “No, I mean that, if left too long on my skin, my throat would close and I could die. Haven’t I told you this, like, three separate times?”

Friend: “Oh, yeah…”

(Boy, am I glad that he’s not in art class.)