The Fuzzy Nose

By Damon Dion Reed

There is nothing extraordinary about Michealson Fisher except his mustache. If you were to see him on the street, he wouldnt stand out. But inside his mind, Michealson Fisher was unique. Maybe it was what he had learned or maybe it was how he had learned it, but none of this really matters because Michealson Fisher has decided NOT to use his imagination any-more. Michealson Fisher wants to see the world the way it really is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477289198

Damon Dion Reed

I began my formal education at the grand old school of Bowling Green State University, which is nestled in the heart of mid-west Ohio in a small town called Bowling Green. Bowling Green is best known of the annual Black Swam Festival. After changing my major numerous times, I graduated with a degree in biology. While at BGSU, I found my first passion: Organic Chemistry. Subsequently, I continued on at BGSU to get a masters in Chemistry. I briefly worked in the private sector at IGEN Inc. in Gaithersburg Maryland, as an inorganic chemist. Granted, inorganic chemistry might sound anti-organic, but 'in' is just a prefix. In truth, inorganic chemistry is just organic chemistry hooped-up on metals. I returned to college at the grand old college of Ohio University, which is surrounded by the hills of southern Ohio in a town called Athens. Athens is best known for the Halloween extravaganza that brings students from all over the state of Ohio. Although I did not graduate from OU, I have a few fond memories of the iconic town. In particular, I have fond memories of Perks coffee shop where I spent countless night scribbling away on my first book, Dreamstar. Upon relocating to Galveston Texas, I found brief employment at Starbucks and continued to write. My second book, Bibbles of Spuce-tame, was originally published in 2009 and is slated to return to the market. Currently, I reside in Houston with my two cats and continue to write. Hopefully, you'll enjoy my second passion;-)

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© 2012 Damon Dion Reed. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/8/12

ISBN: 978-1-4772-8920-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-8919-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012921433

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter One

Michealson Fisher was an infinitesimally complex man who had a reason for everything. On Tuesdays, he would get up, stand on his right foot for twenty-five seconds and then stand on his left foot for thirty-six seconds, all the while stretching his arms towards the ceiling. On Thursdays, he would get up, hop on his left foot to the bathroom, and then hoop on his right foot while washing his mouth out. On Sundays, he would dangle his feet over the side of his bed and pretend that he was playing a piano that had been designed specifically for his toes. As for the reason why Michealson did all these things, we may never know. But Michealson’s behavior wasn’t the strangest thing about him. Quite simply, Michealson never trimmed his nose hairs. He would trim his mustache, his hairy ears, and on occasion, his straight brown hair, but he never trimmed his over-grown, out-of-control, very bushy nose hairs. Unfortunately though, his rampant nose hair wasn’t the reason why everyone called him Hairy Snotter.

As a child, it was unfortunate that Michealson Fisher had an over active imagination. But as an adult, Hairy Snotter was quite fond of his imagination and the delights it brought him every day. While driving to work, he would imagine that his mustache was blowing in the wind - even though he always kept his car windows shut. When walking from the parking garage to the building where he worked, he always imagined that he was jumping over great lava pits, waving to a forest full of monkeys, or stopping to say hello to the two rhinos having tea. All of which, Hairy never told anyone. In fact, Hairy didn’t speak much at all.

Nine years ago to the day, Hairy had had his first interview with the Bankers Trust of America. And on that day, Hairy had been very cordial. He had smiled, laughed, and shaken hands with every one of his interviewers until they offered him the job of: assistant to the trust fund manager’s secretary. This job sounded like an open door into the world of banking, but it was, in fact, a lonely, depressing, and very repetitive job. On top of all that, Hairy’s boss, the trust fund manager’s secretary, Shelly Mitchal, was a wicked old hag. More times than Hairy would care to admit, he imagined that Shelly was wearing a pointed black hat and was brewing an evil potion in her over-sized coffee mug. In short, it had been Shelly who had given Hairy his wonderful nick-name.

Six years ago, Hairy came down with a cold of monumental proportions. One day, as he walked out of work into the brisk autumn wind that tickled his mustache, he sneezed four times before being able to zip up his coat. At first, he thought it was just