Breathing is important. If you don’t breathe, you die.

That is so totally not true. It’s a myth invented by doctors. That way, every time you experience difficulty in breathing, you run to the doctor and he can make the next payment on his Maserati.

I know this is untrue because at work, I sometimes spend thirty minutes or more without breathing. Then my chest gets sore and I realize I haven’t taken a breath in half an hour, so I take a really deep one to compensate. That’s on ordinary days. On days when things are really crazy and tense, I sometimes don’t breathe for the entire eight hours. It’s painful afterwards, but it can be done. And what’s a little pain among people you hate, loathe, fear and despise?

Vampires don’t breathe. Maybe I’m a vampire. Vampires don’t sleep at night and neither do I. I save that for work.

Zombies don’t breathe, either. I don’t think I’m a zombie, though. I’ve never eaten anyone. (You! Yes, you! The one in the funny shirt! Get your mind out of the gutter! There’s not room enough for all of us!)

Werewolves must breathe, because they do all this roaring and snarling and howling – sort of like my boss – and it seems like you’d need a lot of air to do all that. My boss has a lot of hot air. Maybe he’s a werewolf?

Sea monsters like the Gill Man breathe water. I’ve never breathed water, but once I was drinking water, and I laughed so hard water came out of my nose. Does that count?

I think I have difficulty in breathing because I’m tense. When you’re a kid, they don’t call it “tense”; they call it “high-strung”.

“That kid is so high-strung, if you plucked him, he’d vibrate like a tuning fork.”

I’m still high-strung, but no one wants to pluck me anymore.