I Smell a Rat
Any home-owner knows that when a field mouse or any other small rodent dies in a garage or inside a wall in the house, there is a distinctively characteristic sickeningly sweet odor which emanates for weeks thereafter. The frustration comes from not only knowing what it is, but in also knowing one will probably never be able to get directly to the source, retrieve the carcass, and thus clear out the stale offensive atmosphere.
My brother once had thoughts in the way of exasperated hatred aimed at my mother for some personally perceived injustice, similar to the one I harbored when she reminded me of our anticipated social disposition in her Will; leaving us to live with Uncle Jimmy.
Despite the fact she would never come up to Uncle Jimmy’s non-achievable high standards, my brother did know that my mother was a meticulous house keeper, and also that she had a dread, almost maniacal hatred of foul odors.
So instead of wishing her physical harm, as I had done, he devised a much more subtle, but perfectly harmless revenge against her. He opened a can of Tuna fish, and then left it in the back of one of his bottom dresser drawers, neatly covered with clean but little used clothes. It drove my mother to the brink of insanity until she finally tracked down the source of the smell, but only after numerous room cleanings or air freshening, then followed by a desperate finale that could only be characterized as “the total purge.”
I am sure she was only one step away from ripping the bedroom walls down if she had not finally found the little time bomb nestled neatly in the back corner of the bottom dresser drawer.
What have we here? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish like smell.
Photo source: Travelpod.com