Smell like shit? I had never noticed it before, but now every one we get called out to stinks like hell.” Moans the slight framed man with a wispy beard. “Probably due to all the piss and vomit, would be my informed guess there Garreth.” Replies the short heavy set woman with cropped grey hair. “That and the dead bodies.” She chimes in a second later. “Yeah – the dead bodies would most likely be the culprit for the stench.” Chuckles Garreth, his weak shoulders jumping as he laughs. “So how the fuck do we keep finding these bodies after they’ve been dead for so long?” Garreth whines as the two officers walk deeper into the dilapidated tenement building, wandering the labyrinthine halls lit by flashing yellowing bulbs. Everywhere you look is cracked dry wall, mould patches, and peeling paint. Ceiling tiles with greasy brown water stains, and puddles of urine gathered at the edges of the red well worn carpets. “Well Garreth, in these instances most of the neighbours are junkies, extremely poor, or illegals. Nobody wants us here, they want as little local law enforcement scrutiny as possible. So shit goes from bad to worse, until they can’t stand it. And we turn up, bother people by asking questions which nobody will answer, and then cart off the rotting corpse. Rinse and repeat. Feel me wee man?” The large woman croaks through gritted teeth. “How many does this make for us Garreth?” The female officer asks as they get within visual range of the slumped body. Previously laying on the floor where it meets the wall. Turned inwards to face the baseboard. From the angle they are standing at they can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman. There is a definite unusual twist to the torso, like it had tried to scratch an itch went too far and died after snapping it’s own spine in twain. Various fluids and puddles seep out from under the grayish blue body. The smell is thick in the air. A humid and pungent overly rotten orange twinge to the air. “At last count we were up to six this week. Not counting the four last week left in a similar state.” Garreth replies quietly. “Looks like the last apartment on this floor. Shouldn’t this hallway have a window or fire exit or something?” Garreth asks as he kneels down to poke around the body with one latex glove on, and a thin metallic rod he uses to lift a collar here, and a jacket pocket flap there. “I’d be surprised if any of the rooms had more than a port hole sized window per unit. These bastard builders cram as many bodies into these apartments as they can. What a shit hole.” Grumbles the larger officer turning away from Garreth while he conducts his first pass over the prone body. “Something tells me we won’t find a listing for this victim in this apartment block. Not sure why, just a vibe I’m getting.” She offers offhandedly. “Whatever you say boss lady. I don’t see any Id on the vic, and the coroner’s folks will get here soon. We can get some fresh air and wait for the retinal scan from doc’s people.” Garreth answers standing up while peeling off his lone glove by the heel of his palm. “Want me to go grab us a bite?” He offers. “Yes. We passed a Longo’s on the way in here, grab me a partial rotisserie chicken.” “No problem Priss, what you eat for breakfast is no business of mine.” He chuckles as he walks back out of the dim pungent hallway.
Day: July 26, 2022
224 Ways to Lose Your Virility. And They All Involve Scissors.
Tough crowd out there today. Early morning chill in the air, and all that jazz. Summer hits real different when the thunderstorms suck out all of the humidity. Got us all searching for sweaters and long pants as we sit in the shade with a cross breeze. You think you’ll never be cool again when the heat waves roll in, but once they move on, you start thinking about “This feels like the fall and October” – again. Very strange.
Spent a good chunk of yesterday (when not at my desk working) pulling thistles from the lawn. I hate thistles so, so much. Stabbed in the fingers and palms over, and over again. Usually if you pull a scotch thistle out just above the root, where it meets the ground you can avoid the worst of the prickly bits. But the midsized ones haven’t softened at the base yet, and shredded my gloved palms. I need to find a manufacturer that builds really tough gloves. Nothing I own can truly deal with either a thistle or a rose bush. It’s really very irritating.
Now you may ask yourself, why do the titles of these posts have so little to do with the actual content? And I’d say, I’m merely staying on trend with National newspapers, who post inflammatory head lines that are misleading vs. What was written. So I take the next logical step and write odd titles, and then fill it with stream of consciousness blathering. Fun stuff huh? Yeah. Yeah it is. Take that money to the bank. A cool 6 cents worth of advertising dollars! Look at me rolling in the views & exposure!
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