“What’s that smell?” Eric Hinndyke yelped as he entered his kitchen. The smell was heavy, dark, and pungent. It conquered up images of green, gassy vapors in Eric’s mind.
He held his nose, knowing that, since he’s worked late for two weeks straight, that he hadn’t kept mind on the kitchen.
But he didn’t think it would smell THIS bad.
Eric looked though the trashcan, digging for the smelly culpirt. But, alas, all he found was junk mail and the half burnt photo of his ex-girlfriend who’s left him two weeks prior.
Eric was desperate to find the hideous stench. He searched the fridge—after all, he did have left overs from all his take-out from work.
Maybe the Chow Mien had soured and molded, maybe the tuna salad was on the wry, or it could be the Mexican fiesta that was clouding up his kitchen with vapors of doom.
But after a search of all the racks, Eric came up with nothing.
He held his gag reflexes as he search the rest of the kitchen. Finally, he followed his nose to the kitchen sink.
Eric mustered his strength, and opened the cabinet doors. The stench wafted up from under the sink like cuss word from a rappa’s mouth. And it was just as fowl.
“Oh, dear God!” Eric gasped and forced down vomit back to its home.
There, decaying in a puddle of near unrecognizable goo was a dead animal. It was covered with ants and swarmed with flies. Eric turned his head, gasping for breath, then slowly turned his head back for a second R rated peek.
There it sat, a sunken in, rotting mass. But what kind of animal was it?
The only think not emaciated was the head. Eric looked at the skull, and saw that it was a Wombat. The only reason he know this was because he’d seen a Wombat on the animal channel, but unlike those Wombats, this one was dead and oozing.
Gagging, Eric covered his face with his tee shirt, donned rubber gloves, and disposed of the creature’s carcass. Once the Wombat was in the trash out front, Eric soaked the under sink with bleach twice.
Eric hurried to his bathroom and scrubbed up to his shoulders in scalding water and a whole bottle of Dial. As he scrubbed, he pondered how a Wombat got into his Canadian home.
When Eric’s limbs were blood red, he dried them with a towel, then through the towel in the hamper.
As he did so, his phone rang.
As he walked to the phone, he shuttered from his remaining gross-out factor. He answered the call.
“Hello?” Eric said.
The voice stated, “This is the city zoo, eh. And we’re calling to tell people about an animal we lost two weeks ago.”
Eric was mortified as he watched the garbage man take away his trash, “Was it a Wombat?”
“Yes. How’d ya know, eh?”
“I saw him.”
“Try the city dump.”
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