Goddamn. I thought I'd never have to mess with anything that could possibly threaten my life and well-being, but I guess the time had to come sooner or later.
I went to get a needle to pick a thread out of my jeans. I open the medicine cabinet, and there, in a thin and compact cerulean container is the needle. So I go to my room, throw down my Levi's onto the bed, and open the clear plastic cap at the top. I dump the container upside-down, expecting a shiny, yet tiny, rapier to drop out right onto the left leg of my jeans. Instead, a broken Mercury thermometer drops out, spilling what is left of it's hazardous contents right onto my Levi's.
I look in shock and awe as, what I think to be tiny ball bearings, gracefully land on the jeans and thankfully not on the bed.
"Oh look, ball bearing--wait a ****ING minute!"
I carefully lift the leg up slightly, and notice the two ball-bearings of different size collide. I expect them to knock each other back, but no, instead they decide to combine, forming an even bigger sphere of hazardous death. I panic for about 2 minutes, and search for some sort of protection for my hands. I run to the garage, frantically knocking over canned peaches in my search for heavy-duty-work gloves. I find a pair, which are a little bit large, and run to my room.
I lift the jeans gingerly, and scrunch up the left leg as to confine the mercury balls of death to one area. I then sllightly tilt my hand, and the balls fall into the waste basket, making a soft thud.
I then wash my jeans, and type this out.
Hopefully it wasn't a TL;DR passage, although I think it is.
But I'm really scared of contamination. Mercury is just so scary.
I went to get a needle to pick a thread out of my jeans. I open the medicine cabinet, and there, in a thin and compact cerulean container is the needle. So I go to my room, throw down my Levi's onto the bed, and open the clear plastic cap at the top. I dump the container upside-down, expecting a shiny, yet tiny, rapier to drop out right onto the left leg of my jeans. Instead, a broken Mercury thermometer drops out, spilling what is left of it's hazardous contents right onto my Levi's.
I look in shock and awe as, what I think to be tiny ball bearings, gracefully land on the jeans and thankfully not on the bed.
"Oh look, ball bearing--wait a ****ING minute!"
I carefully lift the leg up slightly, and notice the two ball-bearings of different size collide. I expect them to knock each other back, but no, instead they decide to combine, forming an even bigger sphere of hazardous death. I panic for about 2 minutes, and search for some sort of protection for my hands. I run to the garage, frantically knocking over canned peaches in my search for heavy-duty-work gloves. I find a pair, which are a little bit large, and run to my room.
I lift the jeans gingerly, and scrunch up the left leg as to confine the mercury balls of death to one area. I then sllightly tilt my hand, and the balls fall into the waste basket, making a soft thud.
I then wash my jeans, and type this out.
Hopefully it wasn't a TL;DR passage, although I think it is.
But I'm really scared of contamination. Mercury is just so scary.
