Jezori

“Bomb Voyage” by Jess

After a long day of work I was ready to  spread my roots into the bed. As I took a step into the bedroom I was improperly smacked in the face with a stench that made my nose hair curl as if attempting to protect the scent from reaching my brain. My wife exits the bathroom with a cheshire cat smile plastered on her face. I think to myself, between shallow breaths, “Was she oblivious to the fact that she just inadvertently released the God of Death into our porcelain basin?”

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I smiled at her, as a husband would smile when something so beautiful could produce something that the CDC would arrest for bioterrorism. I asked my wife as sweetly as possible, “Babe, did you flush?”.

Her bottom right eyelid twitched as if having a seizure. “You smell it too? It’s not me! I just got home myself.”

I raised my right eyebrow in suspicion, half believing her and calculate in my head how far I wanted to take this without stepping foot behind the marriage curtain. Of course I knew she’s only human. There are several times when she’s asleep and as if warning her intent to roll, she releases a concentrated rush of air between the ass cheeks.

But this stench was unholy. I put my best Sherlock coat and cap on and sniffed out the smell. What I found in my office was a crime scene, if a crime scene consisted of diarrhea all over the floor like a Pollock painting.

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“Oh my God! Lucas had diarrhea” she screamed behind me holding her nose. It appears as if our shih tzu shitted out his entire stomach contents all over and around the elliptical machine, as if making a political statement on the most under used equipment in the house.

“Where is he now?” I asked her.
“Audrey is driving him to the groomers right n-” she cuts herself off as if suddenly realizing that her daughter is driving with a dirty bomb, dressed in a doggy disguise, strapped to her lap and ready to explode at any moment’s notice. My wife ran to her phone and frantically dialed.

“Honey, listen to me,” said my wife, as she attempts to remain call. “You know that funny smell you told me you noticed when you came to pick up Lucas? It was him!”

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As if “Lucas” was the trigger word that the shih tzu was listening for, the dirty bomb exploded. The next sound that was heard over the phone was the sound of betrayal and a moan of “Oh, God! His shit is going down my leg!” Then came dry heaving and a disconnected click noise.

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This entry was posted on July 4, 2015 by in Read More Blogs By Jess and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .
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