Normally, I have a pretty strong stomach. I mean, I'd have to, right?
But this guy got off the elevator and came up to my desk today, and...oh my God. The written word cannot do justice to the ODOR. It was like a six foot wall of pain surrounding him everywhere he walked. It was almost a visible thing. It's like...you know when you come out into the parking lot on a hot day and there's those weird wavys coming off the cars? It was like that. Only with SMELL.
As best I can cobble together from previous experiences with the nose, he smelled like...swamp mud coated in algae...and burnt hair...and four-day-old bacon grease...possibly a hint of cat piss...and with a distinct aftertaste (and dear God, I do emphasize the word TASTE) of a month worth of B.O.
I'm terribly afraid that the smell wasn't him, so much as it was the moldy, torn, disgusting, brutal, brown-yellow-and-green shirt he was wearing. If you can imagine what a shirt made of cow shit and bathroom mold could look like, this was it.
I honestly can't even remember what he wanted, except that it was something he needed to go downstairs to do and I hustled him out as fast as I possibly could. I just know that as soon as he was gone, I had to run to the bathroom and call Ralph.
And then I get back to my desk and I can still SMELL IT. The guest chairs in front of my desk are FABRIC. Dear God. So now my entire work area is awash in Violet Fantasy and Cucumber Melon and I'm regularly putting my hands over my nose to get a good clean whiff of the grease-fighting power of Dawn. Anything to get rid of the overpowering, unholy WRETCH.
And he touched my favorite pen, which is currently soaking in a sinkful of scathing soapy water in the kitchen. Maybe it will still work after I fish it out.
One of my coworkers made the mistake of getting on the elevator right after Stink got off and now she's a very interesting shade of white. She honestly might have to go lay down for a while, after being in an enclosed area with it for like, thirty seconds.
How can you not be aware of that?? Did he get a bottle rocket up the nose when he was a kid or what?? At the very least, could he not have LOOKED at that nasty-ass shirt and thought "Maybe this isn't fit for public?"
But this guy got off the elevator and came up to my desk today, and...oh my God. The written word cannot do justice to the ODOR. It was like a six foot wall of pain surrounding him everywhere he walked. It was almost a visible thing. It's like...you know when you come out into the parking lot on a hot day and there's those weird wavys coming off the cars? It was like that. Only with SMELL.
As best I can cobble together from previous experiences with the nose, he smelled like...swamp mud coated in algae...and burnt hair...and four-day-old bacon grease...possibly a hint of cat piss...and with a distinct aftertaste (and dear God, I do emphasize the word TASTE) of a month worth of B.O.
I'm terribly afraid that the smell wasn't him, so much as it was the moldy, torn, disgusting, brutal, brown-yellow-and-green shirt he was wearing. If you can imagine what a shirt made of cow shit and bathroom mold could look like, this was it.
I honestly can't even remember what he wanted, except that it was something he needed to go downstairs to do and I hustled him out as fast as I possibly could. I just know that as soon as he was gone, I had to run to the bathroom and call Ralph.
And then I get back to my desk and I can still SMELL IT. The guest chairs in front of my desk are FABRIC. Dear God. So now my entire work area is awash in Violet Fantasy and Cucumber Melon and I'm regularly putting my hands over my nose to get a good clean whiff of the grease-fighting power of Dawn. Anything to get rid of the overpowering, unholy WRETCH.
And he touched my favorite pen, which is currently soaking in a sinkful of scathing soapy water in the kitchen. Maybe it will still work after I fish it out.
One of my coworkers made the mistake of getting on the elevator right after Stink got off and now she's a very interesting shade of white. She honestly might have to go lay down for a while, after being in an enclosed area with it for like, thirty seconds.
How can you not be aware of that?? Did he get a bottle rocket up the nose when he was a kid or what?? At the very least, could he not have LOOKED at that nasty-ass shirt and thought "Maybe this isn't fit for public?"
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