Upon moving into my new apartment I was briefly informed, by means of a small piece of paper, that my water “may or may not” have harmful chemicals inside of it. While I do tend to assume that there may or may not be harmful chemicals in just about everything I put into my body, this piece of paper alarmed me in how it explicitly brought my water quality into question. Without a doubt, I took it to say, “There definitely are chemicals inside of all the water you are drinking and ever will drink, and you will most certainly die a painful death because of them.”
As you can imagine, directly after interpreting that message, I immediately spit out the water already inside of my mouth into a violent mist, which happened to cover my roommate Micah’s face.
Something had to be done.
Without delay I went to Target where I browsed the water filters. I found numerous options to aid in the chemical crisis. However, the majority of the filters were priced at above thirty $30.
Again, I spit a violent mist of water into Micah’s face. “Thirty dollars?!” I exclaimed. “That’s more than I make in a year! “What is this?! The Ritz?!” I added, yelling again. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this was America!”
After decisively making my point, I bought a water filter on clearance. Its brand name was “Pur,” with a line over the “u.” This, I assume, meant it was French, and assured me that the water would taste as fresh as a spring on the French Appalachian Mountains. It even came with an attachment that dropped in droplets of raspberry flavoring.
Bringing the filter home was like Christmas in the middle of August. I excitedly unwrapped it and sat cross-legged in front of it for hours, just watching the filter drip clean, untainted, raspberry flavored water fit for a king.
When there was enough for a glass, I sprinted to the fridge to grab a cup of ice.
As I filled my glass I came to an alarming realization. The ice hadn’t been properly filtered. There could still be chemicals, lying dormant in the ice, just waiting to be released and poison my body.
This is exactly the way the dinosaurs were wiped out, I realized, except with chemical water instead of a meteor.
Where would the insanity stop? Would I have to continually filter my raspberry water along with my ice for the rest of time? What then? This process would only escalate. I would become increasingly paranoid of the water, the air, my roommates. Eventually I would find myself locked in my room covering the windows in Saran Wrap and walking around with tissue boxes on my feet.
Maybe the chemicals had already gotten to me.
It was this realization that ensured my doom. In my sudden shock I spit another mist of water into Micah’s face, but this time it was filtered. And it was raspberry flavored. Raspberry-flavored death, no doubt…