You should have seen what Jennifer Combs did in math class today. She pulled a booger out of her nose and it kept stretching, like a piece of gum, or a rubberband–it was like a foot long–and then it snapped back on her nose, right when Mr. Peterson was talking about Cartesian coordinates, and he stopped and stared at her, which made everyone else stare at her, and she pulled the booger off her nose and got, like, embarrassed, and didn’t know what to do with it, so she ate it. She ate it, can you believe that? I almost threw up. And the thing is, Jennifer Combs is pretty good-looking. I’ve often thought I’d like to kiss her, but after seeing that, I’ll never kiss her, never, even if she begs me, which she probably won’t because there’s lots of guys besides me she would kiss–but not me–but now it doesn’t matter, so now I’m relieved from having to get sad that she won’t kiss me, because now I won’t kiss her, and that’s empowering for me, which is a word we learned in English the other day, “empowerment,” that is, so really, it’s a good thing she ate that booger, because it empowered me not to feel like a loser. I don’t feel like a winner, but at least I’m not a loser. Not technically. Not a winner, but at least not a loser. I guess my point is: I don’t eat my own boogers. And I never will.


Michael Haller

Michael Haller is a writer based in Cincinnati. His fiction has been published in X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine, Maudlin House, Five on the Fifth, and Across the Margin.