Burt the Barfbag Ponders Love
Burt woke up and shut off his alarm clock. Which was rather difficult, because, as a barf bag, Burt had no legs or arms. He could only move in a complicated manuevre (I have no clue how to spell that word) that he called "florping," and I'll leave it to you to try to figure out how florping works because I don't much feel like trying to write a description of how a barf bag would move on his own, especially not now at one in the morning. Plus, it seems like it would be way too much of a challenge to take on something as ambitious as that on one of my first articles after a break from illogicopedia. Anywho. After he finally somehow managed to shut the alarm clock off, Burt realized he didn't have a job, so he didn't need to set an alarm clock in the first place. He sighed and made his bed, which took the remainder of the day. Then he climbed back in to it. It was late at night, and his best friend Timmy the Tampon would be returning from work.
Burt spent several hours struggling to dial his cell-phone, and finally managed to dial Timmy. He then waited the necessary three hours for the tampon on the other end to figure out how to pick up the reciever. Finally, he heard Timmy's familiar voice. "Hey there Burt."
"Timmy, I want to fall madly in love. I want the sort of love you see in romance movies, where two people meet and start talking and they can immediately relax together, and they fit together perfectly and love each other completely, and buy each other presents and write each other love notes, and go on picnics and get married and then their lives are perfect."
"Ah, but Burt, did you ever see a romance film starring a barf bag?"
"...No."
"Then tell that wild imagination of yours to take a break, and if you're still lonely maybe sign up for a dating site. It's very easy to feel inadequate without love if you think love makes life perfect. It doesn't. Look at me, I'm in love and happily married, but I still have a bizarre life full of ups and downs. It could never be any other way. After all, I'm a goddamn tampon."
"Yes, but...it's just so frustrating! Every time I try to talk to attractive women, I feel so self-conscious! And the last time I went to a nightclub, all the pretty girls just ended up vomiting inside me! Another night spent alone with a headful of vomit! What a depressing florp home that was!"
Florp home. What a stupid phrase.
Timmy or Terrence or whatever the tampon's name was said, "Yes, I can see why that would be frustrating."
"You bet it's frustrating!" said Burt. You bet. What a stupid phrase. Burt continued, "I crave intimacy. I crave it so deeply, but the only thing that ever happens when I try to find it is I'm awkward, I get thrown up on, and I spend the night trying to figure out how to turn on my shower when I don't have arms."
"You've just gotta realize that you don't need to be in a relationship in order to be happy!"
"BUT I DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"If you think you're life will be perfect when you fall in love, it's your imagination talking. Life will never be perfect. So you might as well learn to live it with yourself and be happy in your own shoes. Of course I use the word "shoes" figuratively, since you don't have feet."
"I don't know if I can face the idea of a life alone."
At which point the barf bag realized that he wasn't alone, that he had an incredible friendship with the tampon, and yes, intimacy. Emotional intimacy. Supportiveness. Love. And he had other glorious friends, Edwin the Egg shell and Samuel the Strange Lump of Solidified Orange Goo under the Couch. Here he had what he'd been looking for; love.
He said the word over and over again to himself, love, love, love.
He said goodnight to his beloved friend and florped back in to bed. There he lay, pondering a trip to the supermarket where he now felt that, should he run in to someone attractive, he might be able to say hello. Maybe, if he was feeling up to it, he might even follow it up with a "How are you?" But if not, that would be okay too.
No barfbag is ever truly alone.