Edgar Piffle's Pristine Demise

Edgar Piffle was a man who took 'better safe than sorry' to an extreme that made preppers look like carefree libertines. For 87 years, Edgar’s life was a meticulously disinfected, triple-locked fortress against the cruel whims of existence. He wore a respirator decades before it was fashionable, purified his air to hospital-grade sterility, and would rather wrestle a wolverine than shake a stranger’s hand. His diet consisted exclusively of boiled organic lentils and distilled water, ensuring no rogue bacteria, pesticide, or spontaneous flavor could breach his digestive walls. He’d never ventured further than his own porch, and even then, only to accept a package from a hazmat-suited delivery drone. Edgar Piffle was, in his own mind, the ultimate survivor.

Then, on a Tuesday morning, while meticulously sanitizing his remote control for the 7,345th time, a meteorite, no larger than a particularly aggressive pebble, decided to conclude its billion-year journey directly through Edgar's reinforced, HEPA-filtered ceiling. It landed with pinpoint accuracy, embedding itself not in his sterile floor, but squarely in his left nostril. Edgar died instantly, not from impact trauma (it was, after all, only a pebble), but from the shock of foreign matter entering his meticulously pristine nasal cavity. The irony, some might say, was cosmic. Edgar Piffle, who spent a lifetime avoiding death by a thousand cuts, was ultimately undone by a single, celestial booger.