Like Rapunzel, but Not Really ✔

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: If Oreo were to belong to me, I would not own any parts of my fingers or toes. That being said, they’re still around.

***

Onions.

Pure, unadulterated onions.

This past week, I had gone all Man vs. Wild: Penthouse Edition with onions, surviving on nothing but them old bulbous vegetable.

Going out of the building had been a mistake. A huge mistake.

And me thinking that way was either post traumatic stress or my Dad’s brainwashing had finally worked. Either way, there was no way I was going to risk another outing. Nope. Never. The indoor was my haven and I think all that happened was a sign from a higher power that I ought to not leave my fortress.

Hence the stench that had developed in the caverns of my mouth despite the hours of furious brushing and half a tube of toothpaste.

I leaned in and blew my breath onto the mirror, fogging the lower parts of the reflection of my face. As soon as my breath fanned back my face as a result of simple Physics, it automatically contorted into a sun-dried prune as my brain digested the smell –no, smell was too kind. Odor would be a better choice- that had wafted from my mouth and attacked my face.

Actually, I would not have minded had onions been the only stench that seemed to be laying siege on my gag reflex.

But that was not exactly the case.

No.

My toothpaste was Oreo Cookie flavored.

Word of advice for the gastroenterological organs of the world’s population: Never mix onions and Oreos together. Never.

Just…

Just, never.

The amalgamation of the most amazing cookie in the world and the most used cooking ingredient ever resulted in me running for the toilet bowl, hackling and gagging like nobody’s business.

My eyes watered and my nose clogged up, the world was a carousel on crack. Every time I thought the worse was over, my olfactory nerve picked up the it-that-cannot-be-named stench and my face was stuck in the toilet bowl all over again.

It was a vicious cycle that repeated for far too many times to be healthy.

Finally, I held my breath, not daring to breathe in lest another bout started again. I stumbled across my white tiled bathroom, past the bathtub, and frantically threw everything on the built-in glass shelf to look for mouthwash.

My first attempt at gargling failed miserably. Orange liquid and foam flew a wingless flight, splattering the huge mirror in front of me along with its general area. Actually, the second and third attempts also yielded the same results.

It was not until the fourth time of gargling a normal minty flavored mouthwash that I managed to not suck in the acrid flavor that had managed to entrench itself inside my mouth.

I remembered that it was in the midst of me happily doing my own private business and being thankful that the taste was gone that I thought I heard some sort of noise coming from outside the bathroom door.

My heart skipped one or two beats. I whirled around, frowning, pausing momentarily from all previous activities. With the exception of the violent swirling in my mouth due to inertia, everything was still.

I waited on for several more seconds, my eyes watering a little from the burning sensation inside my mouth.

Silence.