Granted, your body now accepts everything that you were allergic to, but also absorbs them. You become a sort of freakish amalgamation of a mutant and are no longer accepted by society. You set off on an epic journey across the land in search of someone who will accept you for who you are, absorbing more and more things along the way. Finally, you are fatigued, as no one will help you in your journey by giving you food or water. The weight of all the objects you've absorbed finally causes you to topple over and fall face flat in the mud. While you lie with your back to the sky, you realize that mud signifies the presence of water. You slowly bring yourself to your knees and look around in desperate search of a pond or even a small stream. For what seems like hours, you keep searching, but alas, you find nothing. When all hope seems lost, you stumble across a cabin in the woods. You knock at the door, but there is no reply. Thinking no one must be home, you try to open the door and find it to be unlocked. Everything in the house is covered in dust and cobwebs. There is a kitchen to your right, as well as a long, dark hallway in front of you. The place has an eerie feel to it, but your starvation and fatigue is prominent in your mind, so much that spooks and terrors are of no concern. You turn on the faucet in the kitchen, but much to your surprise, instead of water, a swarm of beetles scurry out of the faucet. There are so many of them that they begin to cover the walls and ceiling of the kitchen. Deep in your mind, you know that they are hungry for flesh, and nothing more. Fearing for your life once again, you run down the hallway and into a room at the end, slamming the door shut behind you. The clicking of the beetles has ceased. Feeling safer, you turn to observe the room. There is a single light bulb hanging over a table in the center of the room, flickering on and off, though you don't recall turning any switches on. On the table there is a note card. As you pick up the note card to read it, you see a black figure in the corner of the room, swaying back and forth. You dare not approach it, as it could be dangerous. "Read the card," says the figure. You read it aloud. "My life is over". You look up just in time to see your killer's face. It is Ronald McDonald. With a knife wound in your chest, you wonder how much worse your life could be when Osama Bin Laden walks into the room and kicks your stomach repeatedly. Not even the world's cruelest would allow such an abomination to live. You close your eyes and, while waiting for your sweet demise, quietly wish to yourself you were allergic to something.
I wish I had a bagel.