…The Crayon Post.
I try to be a good boy.
For example, I don’t kick baby kittens down staircases…. (that you can prove)
And no matter how much I fantasize about inventing a fully automated mass stabbing machine and unleashing it on my co-workers, I have never hurt so much as a fly in my life.
(Well, unless you count that one time I knocked my brother unconscious with a stuffed dolphin…)
So overall, in the grand scheme of things, I feel I’m a fairly decent human being.
So with all this good karma built up over the past 27 years, I thought I was due for a bit of a reward. Maybe a real live baby panda would fall from the sky? Or perhaps Ono Mayumi would knock on my door and confess her undying love for me?
But alas, the universe appears to have misunderstood the karma system because what happened instead is a few weeks ago I go to work to encounter…
…that I have been seated by the worlds smelliest, most noxious ham stinkiest…! human being in the world…!
I am not joking. The stink is a terrible, frightful thing. It makes me – literally…! – run to the bathroom retching at least twice an hour.
(is it bad when the air in the bathroom is fresher than by your desk?)
This person – and I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and what metaphors to use here – is surrounded by an odoriferous vapour cloud of doom so horrible, so vomit gag inducing, it’s like the stank of a sweaty salt ham stuck inside a pile of old wet moldy hard cover books….!
I mean… it gets you…. gets you right in the back of the throat – it’s like… as if… I dunno – like…. a thousand stanky gooches simultaneously rubbed themselves all up and down your tonsils…!
And it wouldn’t be so bad if this person wasn’t so…. humid..! But alas, it’s like a zone of tropical stank ass moisture permanently surrounds them – their own, sweaty, stanky, salty climate humidity zone of despair and hellacious darkness.
The worst is when they lean over to talk to me – each puff of air gusting clouds of damp humid stank gas at my face as I struggle to keep my eyes from squinting shut to prevent bits of moist stink spittle from striking and searing my very corneas, hold my breath to prevent any bit of contaminated gas cloud from entering my tender lungs…
Each motion of their hands sends cascading waves of humid, salty, nasal death crashing upon my arms, neck, chin, cheeks, nose, edge of my eyes. The very shores of my innocence and pure panda-esque happiness are viciously assaulted by the terrible crash of this putrid tide.
Oh god….! What haft I done to deserve this!?? What folly haft I committed to have incurred your wrath so!?? And with the hot sticky Japanese summer coming up, how much worse will this get!?
Gentle readers, I fear that I might seriously have to either kill this person or myself before this year is done. Help me. Please.
Now listening to: Akon – Don’t Matter