Arse Rot by Stephan Imri-Knight

Published by Stephan Imri-Knight at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Stephan Imri-Knight

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All rights reserved. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Arse Rot

Inside a filthy unmaintained apartment in a filthy unmaintained apartment building, a bulbous looking unshaven man lay unmoving in an old faded recliner chair. The bulbous looking unshaven man was sitting watching TV, a sliver of drool hanging from the edge of his dry food caked lips. The man named Miguel scrunched up his nose at a foul smell that seemed to be filling the room. The noxious gas that wafted up teased Miguel's hair and snot infested nostrils. The stench was like nothing he'd ever smelt before, some aspects of the overall stench were unfamiliar whilst others were very familiar indeed. The smell of month old curried egg sandwiches, burnt pubic hair, composting old food scraps and just a touch of a sickeningly sweet musky after stench akin to deodorant rubbed over unwashed armpits. He looked about himself for something to block his nose with, aside from his fingers, he needed those to work the TV remote. It was a conundrum, how could he block his nose from the stench without moving from his seated position in his old recliner chair and with the least amount of effort possible? It has taken him months to get the groove in the chair just right. It was at the point where the chair ended and Miguel began was almost indistinguishable. He was cosy and comfortable, no simple smell was going to ruin it for him. He didn't know the source of the ambiguous smell but he expected it was due to the 20 foot large pile of unwashed dishes he'd left in the kitchen before he had settled in for the six month long B-grade horror movie marathon. Which he was now four months into. He turned his head a little towards the coffee table where a few old newspapers were heaped on top of it. A copious amount of ran out pens lay on the papers which were full of incomplete Sudoku puzzles that had been scribbled out in rage. Miguel didn’t have much patience but he was quite stubborn, still he had never managed to solve even a beginner level puzzle and it hurt his head to try too hard. He couldn't quite reach them but despite his lack of mental prowess when it came to Sudoku, Miguel considered himself to be no fool so he knew precisely what to do. Using the remote to lengthen his reach he shoved it against the pens and pushed them towards him grunting. Laziness prevailed, the pens rolled forward with ease. He grabbed a handful and shoved them up his left nostril then repeated the process for the right. The smell was gone or at least he couldn't smell it anymore and that was all that mattered to Miguel. He sighed with relief and let the couch swallow him in a little deeper as he listened to the shrieks, sometimes "ooh"s and "aah"s and horrible squelching sounds coming from the old wooden television set.

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