![IMGRT-194407948-picsay.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmRGMurr2JyKVbV8HLEYTFGWrkU7M5XQVjd6yniE9wNBBM/IMGRT-194407948-picsay.jpg)

The day started off so innocently. 

I swung my legs out of bed and landed on the floor with a rasping cackle like an old pirate eating whelks.

*Thar be no need to caulk your timbers yet, me old salty dog.*

I said to my reflection in the mirror. 

I felt good. Remarkably good for the morning. Of course, if I had known what was to come on this awful day perhaps I would have crawled back into bed. 

Or ran, screaming, for the hills...

But I didn't know. Nor could I guess. 

With the special innocence of the handsome, I headed for the bathroom to take a shower.

I held my head back under the water and sighed happily as the steam fogged the glass door. Pulling out my favourite soap I proceeded to give myself a lime-scented lathering. 

The bubbles from the soap frothed up, pure and white. They obviously had no idea of the horrors the days had in store as they gurgled merrily down the drain.

Briefly, I thought of cracking one off into the Good Lady's hair conditioner. No. I stopped myself, too much and she might start to suspect.

I put the bottle down and stepped out of the shower and back into real life. My heart was light. Oh to go back to such innocent times.

With no little debonair flair, I had my clothes on and was making *hand pistols* in front of the mirror.  

*You the man.*

I drawled in my favourite American accent which sounds like an Irish cat saying *meow meow meow* whilst being squeezed in a vice.

*Time to get me downstairs and see me dese beehotches.*

I muttered. 

I always felt a little sad when my *me-time* was over and it was time to rejoin the family. 

So naive, to believe that I knew what sadness was before it all happened. 

Downstairs I pushed open the door onto a lovely happy family scene. The Little Boom was playing with his wooden trains on the floor. His big sister, The Little Lady, pushing different pieces of lego together, making what looked to be a tower of some kind. 

My beautiful wife, the Good Lady, turned to me with a smile. 

*Hey, Daddy-Bear, coffee is ready.*

She beamed.

I beamed back. I was happy. Truly happy, I will always remember that moment. 

Before everything changed. 

Forever.

There was a strange and wet and burpy sounding sneeze/cough from the direction of the Little Lady.

Then a moment's silence...

A scream rent the air. I fumbled my coffee down on the table and looked to see what the hell was happening.

What I saw, scars me still. I don't know if I will ever be free of that sight. 

The Little Lady screaming, clutching at her cheeks, eyes bulging with terror.

*It's on my face!!! GET IT OFF MY FACE!!! HELP ME!!!*

And then I saw it. The massive glistening fat green slug draped over her lips and chin, looking to have been flung out, rope-like from her nose.

*SNOTTERS... HELP!!!*

She screamed in panic. 

I was rooted to the spot with fear. I had never witnessed such horror in all my days.

The Good Lady fetched a handkerchief and ran to help the Little Lady. Grimacing she wiped her face and flung the hankie and it's miasmic contents into the kitchen bin. 

She came back into the room and stared at me in puzzlement. 

*Are you ok, Daddy-Bear?*

She asked.

I looked at her with haunted eyes.

*Yes.*

I whispered. 

But I wasn't. I didn't think  I would ever be ok again.