Opening #3

I was dealing with a lot of goo. Mostly eye-goo, but there was also nose-goo. And every morning, an impressive amount of throat-goo, stretched lengthwise down the windpipe - would suddenly slide up and ball together, blocking the trachea, compelling the hocking reflex necessary to suck it all up and into the mouth. There, it would collect for a moment, take a last demented look around, before being hurled headlong into the waiting folds of a hurriedly-opened tissue.

It lay there, viscous green, and silent. The stuff of life gone slightly awry.

So this is the world, it thought.