Tuesday, April 29, 2003

An Olafactory Adventure


When he said, "Oh my God", I knew I wasn't going to like what was going on in the bathroom. Sure enough, that's what that smell was.


J had been milling around near the VCR and all that equipment in the corner, and I was forcefully trying to figure out what color the inside of the oven was originally. (This is sexist as hell, but I still can't get over the fact that there was a woman living in this place before J, and she let the oven get into THAT condition. Unreal. But I digress.)


J suddenly walks over to the kitchen area sniffing, asking, "Do you smell that?" "What?" I had no idea what he meant, but he couldn't smell it over by me either, so it seemed to be something wafting around the area of the electronic miasma in the corner. "It's...ah...poopy smell." So what's the first thing you do when you smell something like that? J the Realist checks his shoes and then peaks in the bathroom, while Carrie the Active Imaginationist started putting two and two together, and figured that along with the unexplained knocking sounds on the roof earlier, this poopy smelling mysterious cloud is the result of a poltergeist. Hey, I read that somewhere, that poltergeists can be the source of unexplained moving odors, so it must be true, right?


Anyway, since we couldn't find the source, I went back to my battle of woman versus appliance, and J puttered around with whatever it was he was looking for. After a few more basins full of greasy water going down the kitchen sink, the smell is now in full bloom, and that was when J took another look around and called out from the bathroom.


The foulest things I have seen in a long time were billowing up into the tub through the drain, of course accompanied by the previously mentioned smell, but which was now amplified in the small tiled room into the stench of a thousand stenches. But wait, just when you thought that it was safe and this story couldn't get any worse than this (second story down), you guessed it, the foul stuff included that extra special ingredient: DEAD MAGGOTS.


It was only because they weren't moving that I managed to hold onto my stomach contents and not deafen J with a horror-movie vixen scream. I don't quite understand when I signed up for an endless series of maggot-wrangling adventures, but really, please, I'm quite done now, thank you very much. And as for J, he was standing there staring at the god-awfulness that is backing up into his tub, and wondering when the locusts and frogs are coming. It's not been easy on him, this new abode.


So, the happy ending is that a plumber with a snake can make the most disgusting problems go away, and I guess in the long run it was better that it was just that and not the poltergeist, since there probably aren't many listings in the yellow pages to help out with that. And I can happily say that after a full day of Draino purchasing, Draino trying and failing, Roto-Rooter calling and check writing, (paraphrasing the little psychic woman in the movie "Poltergeist" as she straightened her paranormally-mussed hair), "This bathroom is clean."


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