WELL, IT CERTAINLY IS SOMETHING TO SNEEZE AT

When such a sneeze blows your nose off.

You feel the build up. Deep, almost under your cheek bone. Pressure building. And building. There's no way of snuffing it out. No way to stop the rush once it's begun.

Putting a finger vertically below your nostrils would only serve to make you look foolish. You would, too, if you thought you were alone. But it wouldn't help.

"Look at the sun; look at the sun," some would say to suppress it. But you're afraid that might just make it move through the tubes quicker. You don't want that pain. We all like to put off unpleasantries as long as possible.

"Someone say 'achoo'", some other one offers. "Gesundheit," another helper offers. Both to try to quash the sneeze before fruition.

But not this sneeze. The mother of all sneezes. You might as well try to stop the earth from rotating.

You give in. You help by allowing your voice to enhance the act. You certainly don't want to hold it back and worry that it might leave you deafened as your oldest aunt. So you go with it.

Explosion. A Fourth of July outburst. A spray of sinus sinews slices the air. You're afraid to look to see if someone stole your nose like when you were a child and the adult or older kid held the tip of his thumb to show you your nose. You wanted a mirror after you felt your face for assurance. It's that same thing now.

Did I just blow my nose off?

Thankfully not. Just a little brain dust raining down.