Well, this is pretty gross...I rode past the remains of a dead armadillo. Yes, we do have plenty of them in Texas. The live ones prove that they really are terrible seers...you can almost walk up on one. Maybe that is why they don't see a tire until....well...
Anyhow, there was a dead one on the road. I saw it in plenty of time to plan my line around it...but it was on the top bit of a really steep climb...I was out of the saddle and breathing hard....
and I sucked in a fly. Yes, a dead armadillo fly. It lodged in my throat as flies will do. I coughed and it flew back into my mouth and stuck behind my teeth, where I was able to flick it out with my tounge, but not before it wriggled around in its death (I assume) throwes and spread its germy....parts...about the interior of my mouth.
I stopped mid hill, rinsed my mouth with heed about a million times, and tried to think good thoughts of protein and natural antibodies and...well...I don't know.
It was gross. Gross, I tell you. It made me want to take up knitting. Or scrabble. Or curling.