1. The Silent Convulsion
The gold standard. A violent bodily shudder contained entirely within the torso. No noise or spray. Just a brief, grimace-induced aneurysm. You are a person of discipline. You would do well in a gulag.
2. The Double
One to loosen the debris, one to eject it. It follows a logical arc. You pay your taxes. You rotate your tires. You are boring, but you are necessary.
3. The Triple
You are now demanding attention. The first “bless you” was a reflex; the second was a courtesy; the third is wearing on our patience. You are the equivalent of an unskippable YouTube ad.
4. The Pixie Squeak
You suppress the vocalization until it sounds like a mouse being stepped on by a stiletto heel. You think this makes you dainty. It actually makes you sound like you are performing a mating call for a very specific, perverted demographic of anime fans. Stop infantilizing your mucus membranes.
5. The Dad Roar
You scream the word “ACHOO” at ninety decibels. You add vowels that aren’t there. Apparently, you want everyone at Safeway to know you possess a diaphragm and a failing marriage.
6. The Wet Mist
You didn’t cover your mouth. You just baptized the conference table in your own lukewarm aerosol. You are the reason the aliens won’t talk to us. You should be legally required to wear a cone.
7. The Implosion
You pinched your nose. You swallowed the explosion. Now your eyes are bloodshot, and your ears are ringing with the frequency of poor life choices. You denied the world your germs, but you likely ruptured a vessel in your frontal lobe. We appreciate your sacrifice.
8. The Look-at-the-Sun
You walked outside, looked up, and your body rejected the concept of light. You are genetically weak. The universe is literally shining upon you, and your reaction is to spit at it.
9. The Allergy Fit
Stop it. Get out. We don’t care that it’s pollen. We don’t care that it’s ragweed. Watching you spasm seven times in a row is forcing us to confront the grotesque, jerky reality of being meat sacks piloted by electricity. Go convulse in the woods.
10. The Talker
You sneeze, and then you say, “Whoa, excuse me! Must be the dust!” No one asked for the commentary. We know it was the dust. We were willing to ignore the eruption, but now you’ve forced us to acknowledge the aftermath. You probably clap when the plane lands.
11. The Delayed Build-Up
You gasp. You tilt your head back. You hover there, mouth agape, eyes fluttering, holding the entire room hostage in your pre-sneeze purgatory for six agonizing seconds. Just explode or don’t. You are edging the atmosphere. It’s perverse.
