Smell My WordsPosted: November 19, 2012
There are moments and things in life that should be preserved. The thing I want to preserve here is a smell. The smell is so foul, so dangerous, it would not be responsible of me to capture it with anything other than words.
Think of a tuna sandwich. Make it one with everything on it, lettuce, tomato, extra mayo. What the heck, let’s add pickles too. It’s a big sandwich, isn’t it? Bigger than you realize. This sandwich is a few inches short of six feet tall. It weighs close to two hundred pounds.
You might like tuna sandwiches. That is your prerogative. I think we could agree that no matter how we feel about tuna, a sandwich the size of ours would be particularly strong smelling.
I’m asking you to imagine our sandwich at such an unusual size because that is the size of the man who produced the smell I’m describing. The smell is half tuna sandwich, but it is more than simply tuna sandwich.
But Wait. That’s Not All.
Not only did this guy smell like the biggest, fishiest sandwich ever imagined, but he added the dimension of classic unwashed body odor. I’d summarize by saying that the man smelled like a tuna sandwich that made a living harvesting crops in the summer sun.
He kept coming around me. The first time he did, it startled me. I thought I was generating that aroma. A quick investigation cleared me of all charges. I identified the responsible party and put space between us. Whenever he was near me, I knew it. Let me assure you that if there is ever a race of carnivorous tuna sandwich men, they will never be able to capture and eat you as long as your sense of smell is intact.
It was important to me to describe the smell to you. I suffered the smell. What’s worse is that I suffered by not being able to say what needed to be said to the smell’s owner. Societal constraints are so constraining, aren’t they? On the tiny chance that tuna sweat boy will find this, I am publishing what he needed to hear that night…
“Please tell me that you have a tuna sub in your pocket. That would be so much more normal than you smelling like this. After a few hours of turning around trying to figure out who is eating tuna near you, you have to have figured out it is you generating that smell.”
“The compassionate side of me says maybe you have some sort of condition that causes that smell. I can’t imagine what that is, but it is possible. The cynic says it is possible, but the rank sweat smell makes it clear that you and soap are not friends. You should make amends. Soon.”
“Until you are reunited with soap, I must inform you that a team of attorneys is drawing up a restraining order to keep you 1500 feet away from me. That distance will increase by 100 feet every day until you take a shower. Please do us both a favor. Start by standing over there.”