CHILDREN

My views on children:

1. I don't trust them. Something about their beady little eyes and grubby fingers. Are all children villains? The off-rhyme-relationship between the two words seems to indicate so. And thieving? If I don't have a concept of what's mine and not-mine at age twenty-one, then what chance does a nine-year-old have? Seriously, I see one in the book store unattended and I'm all like, "Dude, you're nine. What are you doing here? You can't even read. Put the mad-libs down, because your fingers have germs on them."

2. They are like mini-people. Tiny, strange and annoying mini-people. They're like shrill person-larvae that have some rudimentary grasp of the damage they can inflict and it only intrigues them. There is no concept of consequence. So what if bites that break the skin leave permanent scars in the shape of tiny mini-person teeth? Human flesh tastes like candy.

3. They swarm. Where there's one, there are invariably others. They're like locusts, except bigger and more voracious. And they play games like 'hide and seek' so you even when you think you've gotten rid of them all they're still there. Lurking. And giggling.

4. The screaming. When humans were evolving from fuzzy proto-humans, the scream fulfilled a specific function as a sort of alarm, saying "I am a small child so pumas can kill me AND THERE IS ONE RIGHT THERE." Today, with modern anti-puma technology being what it is, the scream serves a function more akin to a "Joy-Siren," otherwise known as a "Bieber-Alert." Such a cry teaches listeners not to fear pumas, but to fear happiness.

5. Their ubiquity. Children are everywhere. There is no escape from children. There could be one behind you.

Right.

Now.

Why I hate everything that water has in it...

Like fish.

Or floating anthropoids.

Or bacteria.

Or mutha fukken HOLE IN HEAD DISEASE.

Seriously, that's a thing.

So, recently, my car has decided to choke on its own exhaust pipe. I'll be driving it and it starts cutting out in the middle of the highway. Since there is nothing BUT highway in foco, I'm forced to drive through horrible empty parking lots until I reach my apartment from getting groceries while my car reminds me every thirty seconds that it's dying of car-bronchitis (chronchitis?) (Really, it's more like tuberculosis. That's consumption, right? I feel like my car is the kind of car that would tell you stories about how it's spent its life workin' in the coal mines over a cheap beer.)
(That'd probably be black lung disease.)
(Regardless.)
This affliction chose to take hold during one of the shittingest cold-snaps this town has seen in a while. Like, negative eight. But since I have no sense of temperature/self preservation and I heard that a blockbuster was closing down on the south end of town (along the highway), I convinced a group of my friends that "No, we shouldn't spend the frigid evening safe in the comfort of my apartment" and that "It's totally a good idea to go to blockbuster, like, right now."
On the way there, my car starts coughing. It waves me off and tells me it's nothing, but I can tell something's wrong. But I say nothing. My car has its dignity, after all.
We reach blockbuster and things are still too expensive to afford (even though I REALLY wanted a twilight-themed snuggie) so we all decided to go back to my apartment.
Just out of the parking lot, my car coughs again. I inquire after its well-being, and it waves me off. As it opens its mouth to tell me it's all right, it erupts in a fit of oil and ill-will. Giant wracking coughs jolt the car as we're careening down the highway.
I turn on my emergency blinkers.
Once we've turned off into a K-Mart parking lot, I apologize to my friend about how my car is about to hack up a carbourateaur (I don't know how to spell car-parts.) She says it's cool, and something-something-something "this disease that fish can get called Ick."
"Ick?"
"Yeah."
"What is 'Ick?'"
"It's short for *big science word.* Basically, fish have absolutely no immune system. Whenever anything shocks their system--like moving to another tank or getting introduced to another fish or being breathed on--they get sick. Ick is when these tiny parasites take advantage of stressed fish."
"Take advantage of?"
"They get under the fish's scales and then multiply, growing into big white wriggling pustules."
"... What."
"Yeah, then the pustules burst, sending parasites into the water to infect more fishes."
"... WHAT."
"Yeah. At least it's not as bad as 'hole in the head' disease."

I am silent.

"That's where bacteria basically burrow-"
"My car is shitty, isn't it?"
"Yeah."

So, this is why I hate water. Because it makes holes in your head, and then parasites get in the hole and make pustules of other parasites in your brain. Also there are fire-worms there.

PS- It turns out that, yes, humans can get Ick.