Mutant Ass and Assorted Other Problems

First, allow me to apologize to my vast reading audience for my absence from the ol' information super high way. I know that millions of people rely upon my wit and wisdom to make it through their meaningless insignificant lives. I can't even walk down the street lately without people stopping me and begging me to continue writing. They rant and rave. There is much renting of clothes and gnashing of teeth. Tears flow freely as these poor wretches cling to my coattails imploring me to write more blogs. In the past weeks I've heard there has been an increase in suicide which I am sure is related to my mysterious disappearance from this very space. There has also been two costly hurricanes during this time. I just can't help feeling that all this could have been avoided if only I had found the time and means to write something - anything - on this blog. So, just for the record, let me say sorry about Katrina. My bad.

The problem, you see, is I've moved and I'm broke. I can't afford such rarefied niceties as cable television, internet service, and underpants - God, how I miss underpants. Compound this with all of a sudden working full time and driving all over God's creation - mainly western Pennsylvania and Eastern Ohio - I haven't found the time to sit down in some nice little internet cafe to write. The free time I do have has been primarily focused on a much more pressing issue: diagnosing and eliminating the ungodly, funky, nasty stench in my new apartment.

My apartment stinks. Quite literally. It produces a smell which almost defies description. It's as though my building was built on an ancient graveyard which is the final resting place of a tribe of flatulent Indians. Let me put it to you another way. Imagine a dog's ass - not the whole dog, just the ass. Good. Now imaging a cat's ass. Smells bad, huh? Now imagine the dog's ass and the cat's ass getting it on. Can you imagine it? These two animal asses knockin' boots? You can? You sick freak. Now imagine the canine and feline asses giving birth to unnatural mutant dog/cat ass mutant puppies/kittens - I'm going to refer to them as kippies. That's what my apartment smells like, kippy ass.

As you might imagine this has been a concern of mine. I was able to get carpet cleaners to my apartment a few weeks ago. They cleaned the carpets, the apparent source of all odor related problems. I thought this would take care of the odor, but I was sadly mistaken. Kippy ass is much more resilient than even I ever imagined. The smell persisted. Today the carpet cleaners sent out another man. This man is the one they go to for serious problems. He makes them go away. He was like the Wolf in 'Pulp Fiction', only the Wolf's first words upon arriving anywhere aren't "Shit, I locked my keys in the van."

At least the Wolf went about his job with soothing professionalism. He assured me everything would be taken care of. He sprayed everything down with sanitizer and then 'sucked the hell out of the place' (his words). By the time the Wolf completed the job I was confident that kippy would finally be vanquished. Then, the Wolf dropped this bomb shell on me: "Some of these are piss stains and they ain't never coming out." Now, I have a small informal set of quotes I never want to hear spoken to me and this is one of them. It ranks somewhere between "James, you have a knife sticking out of your back," and "You're done? I didn't realize we'd started."

There's kippy piss stains all over my carpet - and please don't question how the bastard children of two asses can urinate. These stains will never come out and their smell will never be fully dissipated. As you can imagine this is more than a little disconcerting for me. There is dry piss in my carpets in my apartment, the largest spot just happens to just beneath where my head rest on my bed. This gives me a nice little send off each night and a rude awakening every morning as well as almost fully assuring that a girl will never be in my bed - not that this was a viable opportunity anyway.

I only have one remaining option: embrace the kippy. Tear my clothes off, wear a loin clothe and roll my own animal scent in with the kippy. Eat dead things I find on the street, sucking the meat straight from squirrel bones as I crouch near naked in my living room before a roaring bonfire. Sleep on the floor with only scattered trash and friendly rats to keep me warm. Mark my walls with crude drawings depicting my everyday life so that thousands of years from now paleontologist can discuss the importance of the painting showing 'the young savages hunt for a half-eaten discarded MTO'.

Of course, I could just tear out the carpets.

Shalom
James