My Darling Booger

The original image is in the public domain, and is accessible by clicking on the image. WOOT!Last night, I lay in bed awake, against my will.  Phil was tossing a fitful sleep, and every moment I approached the brink of sweet slumber, he would kick or jolt in a sleep spaz, and I would be tossed back to consciousness.  So I lay there, awake, eventually thinking about how much I COULDN'T EVEN BELIEVE that I was sleeping next to this disgusting person, this uncouth man-jerk, this animated dog poop.  And I stared at him, wishing he would roll over and fall off the bed and sleep peacefully on the floor, leaving our mattress AND ME peacefully untouched.  And while I had these thoughts, he jerked in another sleep spasm, and THEN picked his nose.  Like, with unusual dexterity for a person who was sleeping.  And THEN, his sleeping self was not satisfied with the pick, so he went for it AGAIN, this time with his thumb, and really dug up there.  "Phil," I said.  "PHIL."  Dead asleep.  OF COURSE, I thought.  Only Phil would have DREAM BOOGERS.  And as I thought that, he withdrew his thumb from his nose, and reached his arm up into the air, and began the motion of SPRINKLING HIS BOOGER, right over MY HEAD.  Ah, I thought, there's no way there's a real boog-- BUT THERE WAS.  There was a real booger in there.  And it hit me right in the forehead, and bounced onto my chest.  I plucked it off and, well, what else could I do? -- I sprinkled it onto the floor.