The Smell

December 25, 2008

The Smell

The cloud of a stinky odor possessed my presence. The enclosed casing caved into, and my nose now became part of the outer layer of the foul, sniffing the bad stench. Not poo. Or pee. Not those two P buddies who visit on a daily basis. Though this smell wreaked also. And this taunting smell was Me! I really wreaked bad! I had not bathed in 13 days, since "The Accident." I can't shower or lift myself into a big wash bowl. I haven't had a sponge bath either during the 13 days, what was the point? Not any visits yet. Butt everyday, I would wash my hands and butt though. I would use (still using) individually wrapped Purell sanitized hand wipes {that kill 99.9% of germs (had wipes since Katrina Hurricane)} on my hands, and also use the adult-sized flushable freshmate wipes on my coochie and ass. But other than that, I did not clean myself. What was the point if I didn't mind? Butt now, my private parts don't get clean as much as they use to. Not for the last couple of days anyway, not since I graduated to TT, the temporary toilet, and left the PP pan Behind, which both hang out with my main squeeze, Bed. U dig? I continued to inhale and whiff my skunky-smelly self that day, all day, that Christmas Day of December 25, 2008. I'm not quite the Cool Cat I thought I was. I can’t lick myself!

I think I know how to grow dreadlocks too. I always thought dreadlocks consisted of unclea n, uncombed hair for weeks, perhaps months. Well I'm on my way to having that look, if that’s the road to having a gutter punk look. My hair is tangled up in curls and the loose particles are mixed in with the stable ones. In some ways, I think I’m a gutter punk too. I get free stuff. food, room, a rolling chair, and some money too.
“I’m a Mooch!
I'm the Gutter Punk of the Ghetto Farm.
I’m a Mooch!
I don't bathe and I don't shave!
I'm just a stinky Dreadlock Babe!"
It helps when you are wearing a black splinted bracelet to showoff when you fold your arms.
Maybe my hair just feels like dreadlocks but maybe it really looks like a Jheri Curl, with the teamed up tight rolls and the thickness it feels and possibly projects. I'll be lookin' real fine in the Ghetto Farm if that’s the case. I don't have a mirror to check out my new Doo. Bart has only one mirror in the house and it’s on the medicine cabinet above the sink in the bathroom, the mirror I can’t quite reach now.

My ears are full of wax buildup too. q-tips nowhere to be found here. I've often wondered how people clean their ears if q-tips were not used? Is that why my hearing is not that good? What, what did you say?

And not only my underarm pits share the wreaking and well-deserving smell, but there are these grass-like creatures growing in the dark, damp, stinky swamp it resides in. And there's also=2 0unwanted weeds sprawling up out of nowhere. And someone crapped in my nose! But I have to say, I don't think there are any whities and blackies living on this head-block of mine. No, not since "The Accident". My face has cleared up real good since there aren't any available mirrors to pick my face in this castle of mine. Otherwise,
--"If I could, then I would: Here we go, here we go, here we go now:
'grace my face with dabs and scabs.
Yea, I'm a Picker. Now a littl' Sicker.
I'll pick it, nick it, stick it, lick it.
I'll get it out, I'll punch it.
I'll pull it up, I'll pop it out. 'til it bust, uht.
Pop the pimp, push the pulse, splat the poop onto the looking glass. Yeah!"
Man, th’s shits poetry!

And then the cartoon characters from The Ren & Stimpy Show pop into my mind: Ren, the temperamental, steaming, fuming, and abusive Chihuahua, says in his Mexican accented voice "Sniff, sniff. Stimpy, what's that smell?" Stimpy, the not so smart, but lovable & adorable fat cat, smiles and replies , “Well, it’s me, Ren, it‘s me!”

The Smell continued to linger & hang out with me for the rest of the day, all day and all night, and into the early next day. I was tired of entertaining It. The Smell finally went away when I met Sponge Bath on day 14, December 26, 2008.