When I was walking on the beach today, I had no idea I would be attacked by an octopus that is now eating its way down my head. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about this—I can’t touch my face or I’ll catch coronavirus.
If I had some Purell, maybe I could feel comfortable trying to get out from under the octopus, but I left my stockpile at home. And I can’t search for any around here because the octopus now has its tentacles over my eyes. I don’t think the CDC has said anything about the cleansing powers of octopus ink dripping past my chin, so I’m just going to play it safe.
I mean, I could put my life in danger and release my face from the octopus that is starting to suck the air out of my lungs, but I just don’t want to risk it. I think I stumbled past someone coughing (though it’s hard to hear, what with the octopus over my ears). Did you know those cough germ particles could travel through the air and land on your hands? It’s just so dangerous.
I’d ask someone to save me from this giant octopus, but how do I know their hands aren’t contaminated? Coronavirus is a real threat, and I have to take all precautions. The mask I’m wearing, the goggles that have now been completely eaten by the octopus, everything I have done has been in service of keeping me safe. I can’t put all that to waste just because the octopus has now lodged its suckers in my nose.
I’m not sure if this octopus has been traveling lately—to Italy, China, California, New York, Washington, anywhere. Hell, if the octopus has been so much as a few feet away from where it flew out of the water and engulfed my head, it and my head should be quarantined for the next 14 days. I am in such danger, and not because the octopus has started writhing around in all of its previously occupied cavities on my face.
The octopus may think it’s the greatest threat, but really I should just be afraid of my very hands. Do you know how many germs can get on them? I might already have it! My breathing’s gotten heavy, and that could either be from coronavirus or from the fact that the octopus is now wrapping its way around my neck.
Sure, I don’t have much of my face exposed anymore thanks to the octopus, but there’s enough that I’m still in danger. I have to follow these rules to a tee to make sure I survive. Going out for some air on this octopus-inhabited beach was enough of a risk. I’d need to wash my hands to “Happy Birthday” before I could do anything, but I’m not near a sink, and I don’t think I heard anything about the cleanliness of ocean water online.
I read every news story online and they said nothing about the dangers of octopi, but everything about how I am definitely going to die, right now, from coronavirus. Do you think this 100-pound octopus only latched onto me and is trying to suck everything from my skull because it thinks I’m healthy? Maybe there’s hope!
I am aware my life is in danger from this octopus that at this very moment is about to enter my mouth and finish its meal: my head. But I’ve got to think about the bigger picture. Everyone, I mean everyone has to take necessary precautions from this global pandemic, despite their circumstances.
I am being careful. I am being tough. And if I keep this up, I’m sure I will not catch coromphhhmmmmphphgfffff