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The aroma of a disreputable God.

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.

Until today.

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.

The smell.

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 disagree.

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.

Bullshit.

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

 
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Posted by on June 24, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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The new Walking Dead

The Walking Dead surround me.

Eyes glazed, faces slack, open sores on exposed skin, its not pretty.

You avoid eye contact, not wanting to attract attention.

But there are worse things.

The ones that pray upon the walking dead.

One of them spotted me just as I left the parking garage, making a bee line for me.

“Yo, my man! You want a free phone?”

This was said to me by a guy wearing an obnoxious purple tie.

Some backstory would probably help here.

I am doing a favor of paperwork delivery for someone and it has led me to a government facility.

The belly of the beast itself.

Nothing scarier than the phrase – “I am from the government and I am here to help you.”

Now imagine that you go to the monster’s den and bitch slap the beast awake and tell him “Time to go to work, MF-er!”

I stood in line for 10 minutes just for the metal detector.

The twitchy guy ahead of me was going to walk out of line twice, but seemed to talk himself into staying each time.

I knew how he felt, I didn’t want to be here either.

Turns out, our reasons for wanting to leave are different.

I want want to leave because my nose can’t decide if BO or urine is more offensive and he wants to leave because…

HE IS CARRYING METH!

When you walk up to the metal detector, the bored security guard shoves a tray at you and repeats “Empty your pockets into the tray and proceed thru the metal detector.”

This is where the drug mule ahead of me loses his shit.

The security guard repeats his line and the fun begins.

“Uh, what is, if I, just metal? Right? No? I should go…”

Out of nowhere, a security guard that may or may not have been a 300lbs ninja put his hand on the tweeker’s shoulder.

“Empty your pockets.”

The security badge makes you immune to the walking dead, apparently.

In the end, he was arrested, basically for being stupid enough to attempt entry into a government building while carrying:

  • A Meth pipe.
  • A weed pipe.
  • 2 separate baggies containing weed.
  • A very small baggie that contained a small white rock that I have seem on many episodes of Cops.
  • Yet another baggie of multi-colored pills.

The charge should have been felony stupidity.

An interesting thing happened once they busted him for being a retarded drug mule.

Half the line walked off.

When I was on the other side of the metal detector, putting my belt back on, I asked one of the security guards why they grabbed him, but didn’t even look at the people who left line.

“He set foot in the building, that changes it all.”

And I guess it does.

Even the beast has its rules.

You can fuck around all you like out there, but when you step thru the gates of hell, you better step correct.

On with my mission.

I got to the help desk and stood in line for 15 minutes only to walk away when I got to the front without asking my question.

Why?

Because the help desk lady smelled worse than BO and urine.

Any help coming from her had to have some sort of karmic stank on it.

Lord helps those who helps themselves and all that.

The directory on the wall told me where I needed to go.

Turns out the higher you go in the governmental tower of Babel, the more efficient the minions of evil appear to be and the nicer they smell.

The lady that date stamped the envelope and gave me a receipt was actually wearing perfume.

When I got outside, I paused to text the person I was there for, letting them know that they owe me WAY more for this favor.

I heard one of the walking dead trying to get people to get a “Free phone”. (Sadly I realized that the phones were not free. I was paying for each one of them. Sigh.)

“Naw man, I got a phone, I just need to get me some weed.”

The answer should not have shocked me.

“Over by the parking garage there a dude with a purple tie…”

Dammit I need some coffee and Xanax.

But I will settle just for the coffee.

I don’t have access to Xanax.

But the guy with the purple tie probably does.

Mmmmm coffee.

 
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Posted by on November 17, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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