Hey, ya jerks. Remember me? Edward Foster, the town germaphobe? Or as you all used to call me, “Crazy Eddie.” You’d also call me “Eddie the Freak.” But mostly you just called me “weird as fuck.” You’d all snicker when I’d go to the pharmacy and buy all the hand sanitizer they had. You’d sneer when I’d take a load home in my pickup truck. And now, all you’re doing is sneezing.
That, and scrambling around town desperately hoping the next Walgreens or CVS you hurry into the will have even a single tube of hand sanitizer left. And every time you look at that empty shelf, your hearts sink like a ton of bricks. A ton of bricks covered in billions and billions of horrifying microbes.
You see, when Purell hand sanitizer came onto the market in 1988, I saw something much more than a jelly-like goop I’d rub on my hands after touching a public door knob and then rub all over the rest of my body every single time I got home at night.
I saw salvation.
Because I knew it was only a matter of time before the germs would start winning and this stuff would become a form of currency. And here we are: you people, pleading for even a single squeeze of the liquid silver; and me, with a shed full of it, boxes stacked all the way up to the corrugated tin roof.
My oh my, how the pathogen-covered tables have turned. In the land of the pandemic, he with the most alcohol-based hand sanitizer is king. And revenge is a dish best served cold, on a plate that has been repeatedly rubbed down with gobs of Purell.
Looking out at your pathetic, disease-infested faces, I can’t help but think of the song the kids in town used to sing about me:
Old crazy Eddie, worries about germs,
Go try to touch him and watch him squirm!
Old crazy Eddie, what a crazy cook
Touch him on his face and watch him puke!
I would call you all assholes, but that word alone cripples me with the horrifying truth that literally every surface in the world is smothered in fecal matter. Now, I’m the one with all the sweet, sweet germ-destroying goo. And you people are the ones with egg on your face.
Did I mention eggs are literally crawling with bacteria?!
Boy, it sure feels good to be proven right. Almost as good as it feels when I lather my body head to toe in Purell and sigh the lovely sigh of not being sick.
Right after screaming the painful scream of getting a bunch of it in my eyes.
