I may be cursed.
I have tried to find an old gypsy woman to verify this, but have come out with snake eyes so far.
I usually live a life that is an interesting cross between golden-child kind of charmed and red-headed bastard son of a medieval lord.
Odd combination, but I usually come out on top.
I have mentioned my sense of smell, or rather lack of, before?
For those who are new or not paying attention, I have had some unfortunate breaks of my nose that have ruined my sense of smell.
Among the many scents I cannot enjoy, body odor, affectionately known as BO, is one of them.
I also cannot smell most flowers. (This is almost a crime.)
But not being able to smell BO? I am ok with that. (It almost, but not quite, makes up for no flowers.)
Again, until today.
I am in a Starbucks I have never been in before. (Is that even possible?)
I set up my laptop, grab my coffee, cream and sugar to perfection and head back to my seat.
And then it hits me.
I have never smelled a human like Crepitus before.
Crepitus has BO on the level of decomposition.
Check that fucker for a pulse, if you dare to get that close.
Crepitus, for those who don’t have time to research ridiculous crap like this, is the Roman God of Flatulence.
Might be the walking dead for all I know.
Good show, but who knows where the extras on that show go between seasons? (I can’t prove they are not using real zombies in that show.)
Anyway, the smell is an overwhelming thing, like a person unto itself.
A really obnoxious person.
With a personality (Smell) that is aggressive and in your face.
Like an olfactory version of a used car salesman.
They say that the course of human events changes because of the deeds of great men.
I think the course of human events changes because of the stench of random people.
Smell makes the world go around.
However, smell is currently making me lose interest in my coffee, its THAT bad.
There are those people in life that have such a narcissistic view of the world that they have no clue about how they affect the world around them.
No man is an island.
I can name ten that are land-locked islands with no sense of the other islands on all sides.
And they are not going to change any time soon.
And then, as it always does, shit changes. (Do you see the irony here?)
Crepitus gets up, possibly shits himself, and leaves.
The door opens a few times, letting a little more fresh air in each time.
A woman sits at the next table that has what I would normally think of as too much perfume.
But not today.
Today, even shitty perfume in quantity is a delight.
Now that Crepitus is gone.
And I can get back to my coffee.
The books are out! Check them out here! The Caffeinated Humor Series