I have a chapstick infestation.
They are everywhere. They hide all about me, ready to pop out when I least expect it. And really, who expects chapstick to pop out at you? Therein lies the secret to their success. And unlike your run-of-the-mill infestations like fleas or mice, there are all different kinds.
The one that lives in my top desk drawer, camouflaged among the pencils, is flavorless. The one in my work apron with my waiter's corkscrew is blue raspberry. An unidentified red berry of some sort makes its home in the front pocket of my bookbag. The cherry one cleverly hides in my purse, where I often blindly shove my unsuspecting hand in an attempt to find my wallet or checkbook.
They are sneaky and completely without shame, these lip balm pests. They run around completely naked, as if someone who is a little anal about labels ripped off their little coverings the minute she bought them. Sneaky buggers, because then you can never tell what flavor they are by just looking. You have to open them up, which is just what they want.
Yes, this is an infestation of the foulest sort.
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