Nose, the best smelling device
Stunk down on April 28, 2024.
My nose is the best smelling device I have ever owned. It truly smells better than anything else in the world.
It finally told me what that horrible stench was. It wasn’t wet rabbit. Nor was it failure. Nor was it even someone’s feet wrapped in their own armpits. It was that stack of dead owls at the end of my driveway! They hadn’t melted like the snow had. But they were rotting.
My nose is indeed the best smelling device I have ever owned.
Becasue was mad at me for making eyes at the girl-next-refrigerator next door. I would be in the doghouse again tonight. I swear, if I don’t die hooting this week, it’ll be a miracle.
I sunk into my Hopeless Slack-Ass® recliner, opened my freshly steamed copy of the Bouillabaisse Boulevard Bulletin, and perused this week’s outrages, distractions, and other frothy kerfluffle-pieces that some mysterious clutch of “editors” had decided to place in front of my eyeballs in this edition. The Thunberg–Santorum affair from 2017 was back in the news for reasons unknown. I turned the page. Julian Rhoodie was gloating that his ban on disposable trash bags, part of a comprehensive global warming plan, would offset the highway department’s new fleet of coal rolling trucks. I turned the page. The Empress of Trebizond and her long, curly toes were back… from wherever they had gone for fourteen years. So the news was not all terrible. I turned the page—now thoroughly outraged, distracted, and frothing. Then I beat my coffee table to death with the rolled-up Bulletin in a futile attempt at catharsis. It didn’t work.
I sighed. My coffee table looked at me reproachfully. I decided to read another chapter of Not Falling Down Stairs for Dummies: A Step-by-Step Guide, a new self-help coffee table book that’s been on the Bulletin Best Seller list since it came out. It was truly an entertaining, informative treatment of the problem of falling down stairs. And it was truly useful in treating the affliction: I had already cut down the number of stair-falls I had taken by a whopping 7.17%! Understanding how all those steps work—to avoid falling down them!—is indeed priceless.
Then I fell asleep and fell down out of my recliner.
But is my nose the best-smelling device I have ever owned?
My neighbors’ joyance of sorse hex is really starting to irritate me. Pot-wallopers and corn-crackers through and through, they are. The incessant neighing and boring sounding forth from their erstwhile garage has caused my ear hairs such an uproar I think I shall never recover from it. I pray they will be eaten by a grue, or stomped by oliphaunts, or even run through an industrial sawmill by that woodchuck out back.
Then I noted, wholly irrelevantly, graphene is nothing but hexagon worship.
My paucile & defunctory blog has almost reached its final page. If I don’t find more notebook paper images, I will surely run out of space for more of this erudite scrivening!
No, my nose is certainly not the best-smelling device I have ever owned. That title goes to the cell phone I lost up a beaver’s butt in 2019. It came out smelling like raspberries. That incident with that stoat’s butt, on the other hand… another day. I’ll tell that tale another day.
The week wore on, as weeks are wont to do. My new ceiling clock kept waving its hands, slowly, in an endless arc. Nothing could stop that bad boy—not even a dead battery. My self-scratching calendar kept hanging onto the wall, scratching off each day with an X as it ended. My self-sealing stem bolts kept holding their seal against the punishing, hard vacuum outside my palatial abode. Yet, despite all of this, I simply could not break my habit of always using ice cubes in pairs.
Now, with this month itself coming to an ignominious end, I now must insist on using ice cubes in order, too—from left to right. Out-of-order ice cube use shall henceforth simply not be tolerated. No more!
I may not die hooting, but I shall yearn to live hooting—if only for a few more decades!
I surmise that if I do die in my sleep tonight, that will make it a lot easier to deal with whatever Fate has decided to throw at me tomorrow. And all week I’ve had a vague sense of unease that whatever She plans is going to be a doozy!