Robitussin is Made Out of PEOPLE!

Ok, Robitussin is not really made out of people.  Soylent Green is.  But I know if people were made into a cough syrup, it would be Robitussin for sure.

However, Robitussin is what supposedly makes your valuable cervical mucus the perfect consistency for sperm to swim through.  This is what most of the fertility sites say, and if "Baby Dust Love Bunny Unicorn Hugs" dot com tells me to take some cough syrup, I'm taking that Goddamn cough syrup.

So I sent husband to the store to pick up a small container of the stuff.  "Get the kind that has GUIAFENESIN in the active ingredient.  And nothing else!  Everything else will cause all sorts of inhuman mutations!"

He returned with Wal-Tussin.  "THAT IS NOT ROBITUSSIN!  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?  DO YOU NOT WANT CHILDREN?!"  I blurted in a panic.

"It's the same as Robitussin.  It has the same active ingredient.  Guiafenesin." He responded, annoyingly calm.

I accepted that response after inspecting the label, and then proceeded to open the child-proof top and pour out a mini-cup full of the foul smelling red syrup.  I smelled it and retched a little.  It smelled not unlike Oven-Off.  It had to be done, however horrible it smelled...I knocked it back like a Girls Gone Wild Jagermeister binge.

As my taste buds soaked in the taste of the Wal-Tussin, I recalled what the instructions said on the baby site I had researched...400-600 mg a day...one mini-cup was 100 milligrams.  That meant I had to ingest this fresh Hell four to six times...A DAY.

Blarg.  I could not imagine taking this crap four to six times a friggin' day.  It's beyond bad tasting, and slurping up that thick-ass red dye #40 syrup is one of the nastiest feelings on the planet.  I don't even take this stuff when I'm on-my-deathbed kind of sick.  Taking it while I'm healthy seems moronic.

I then had the most heinous, evil thought seep through my head as I gagged up a Guaifesen-flavored burp.  Hmmm...do I really need a baby this bad?  

I mean, they're really just a baby for a couple of years, and then BOOM...you get the awkward tweenager, after which you get the hateful full-blown teenager.  And then really it's just picking the one that hates you the least to pick your nursing home.

After eating a peanut butter jelly bar with the fat content of a Big Mac, the taste subsided and the only reminder of what horrors had just transpired was a warm sensation in my throat.  The "coating action," no doubt. 

The hateful teenager turned back into a chubby cherub in no time at all.