Sounds rather disgusting, doesn’t it? Nose putty! Call it ‘nasal glue’, ‘nostril paste’ or ‘whatsnot’, it’s still, well, still disgusting but let me try to explain why I would pick such a deep, dark, secretive subject to talk about.
Several years back, while listening to a Sunday morning sermon in our Church, I happened to glance over at the little boy who was sitting in our row. I had learned earlier that the boy was nine years old and it was his father who was delivering the message that day. Though his father was an interesting Preacher, as the service proceeded, it was his son who held my attention all the way through.
I noticed that the boy had what appeared to be a dark blood blister on the tip of his forefinger and I was only slightly curious as to how he got it. It didn’t matter. I had come to Church to worship God, not pay attention to anyone in my pew. Before my mind had a chance to wonder back to the speaker, I soon realized that what I had been looking at was a well-worn, flattened out booger ball! The boy had only been storing it temporarily on his fingertip for future use, all of which I soon was able to witness, whether I liked it or not!
You may have heard the old saying that goes, “You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose but you can’t pick your friend’s nose”! Right? Judging from the size of the wad he was maneuvering, this boy must have had several gracious friends who had allowed him to freely pick, generously giving him what he had needed! That which he kneaded was more than I cared to cast my eyes upon. It was obvious to me that the boy had maybe just heard his father’s message the Sunday prior. To keep from being bored out of his skull, he had bored something out of his skull to concentrate on!
Several times throughout the service, I tried to take my focus off of him and refocus my thoughts back on his dad’s preaching. I was doing just fine untill I made the mistake of looking over at the boy a few minutes later and noticed that the booger was missing from the his finger. It was no longer between his finger and thumb. Instead, it had been moved to the tip of his nose, close to the source of it’s original origin!
Again, I put my mind back on the message and again, was successful for only a short time. Unfortunately, my curiosity got the best of me and my eyes strayed to my little boogery pew neighbor. That time when I looked, I noticed that the boy had folded up a dollar bill he had pulled from who knows where and firmly secured it to the end of his nose by the same black lump he had been working earlier. Thus, the fitting terms, ‘nose putty’, ‘nasal glue’, ‘nostril paste’ or ‘whatsnot’!
Once more, I steered my mind back to the message his father was continuing to deliver as his son continued to wear the dollar bill on the end of his nose. Ignorantly, I thought the situation could not get worse, but when I looked over at the boy, I promptly proved myself wrong. The situation had gotten worse. The booger ball was then being employed to hold the dollar bill to his chin, looking a little like a cheap dollar goatee.
By that time, I had completely lost any inkling of actually concentrating on the message of his father, though I still tried to pretend that I was listening to him. I asked myself, “How could his dad not see what was going on with his son”? Perhaps he had noticed all of my squirming and thought I was getting convicted by his sermon, causing him to preach even harder. What he didn’t realize was that my uncomfortableness was not coming from his message but from his snotty little kid who was occupying a space in my pew!
A few minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the dollar bill and the nose putty were both missing from his face. What a relief! They were not on his nose and they were not on his chin. At that point though, I only hoped for two things. One, that the dollar bill was not going to end up in our tithe box after the service was over. We just didn’t need any donations which came with (snot) strings attached! And two, I hoped that he had not eaten the booger, or the dollar as far as that was concerned!
As the morning had already shown me, I didn’t have long to wait before my next answer came concerning what had happened to the missing booger. The dollar bill never did reappear but the booger continued to live on at the touch of the little boy. Booger Boy had smeared his home-grown ‘play dough’ across the inner side of the arm rest of the wooden pew we were sitting in! That seemed to be his last desperate attempt to lose any connection he had ever had with the booger toy he had so fondly embraced throughout a 45 minute sermon.
When at long last the message was over, I found myself urgently wanting to get out of our pew, even though i was fully aware that the only route of escape was to squeeze past the same area in which the boogery scene had taken place all morning. Early on, I had made up my mind that whether the young boy was a visitor or not, I would restrain my usual practice of shaking hands with him as I normally would have. No way did I want to shake the hand that had played in Booger Land!
Throughout the rest of the day, I tried my best to remember what the message had been about. What really worried me was that I was not going to take home any part of the message his father had so diligently preached. My true fear was that the only thing I was going to take with me that day was the remnant of the little boy’s nose.
My CONCLUSION concerning the content of the message that morning, was that for some reason, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Nothing seemed to stick. Even now, I try to recall it, but nope, it’s just snot happening!