It’s a common misconception that the Devil is red and carries a pitchfork. I want to clear that up for you right now, and I can because I met the Devil last night.
I was promised all my suffering would end…
and that I would be rewarded with peaceful slumber.
All I had to do was swallow the pill.
I did. I rejoiced. I went to bed.
Ten minutes later I looked like this, but wearing pajamas:
If I had read the entire label, I would have noticed the following warning:
It was too late.
I convulsed and leapt around my bed like I was possessed for an HOUR before I shut it down with an Ambien.
The devil isn’t a creepy demon with horns – it’s Benadryl.
Here’s what I plan to do with the rest of the box:
Have you ever had a strange reaction to a drug? What was the last thing you burned?