I have a neat little headache right now because something smells overwhelmingly of a wrinkly woman,s perfume. I can,t locate the source of the aroma but it,s so strong that I think it,s coming from me. I,ve spent much of the last hour sniffing things around me to try and find the epicenter to no avail. Luckily, I have been getting paid to do it. It is not a great job but it is necessary.
To accompany this noxious odor, the room I am sitting in is filled with shrill, screeching, middle-aged Australian women. One of them sounds like a normal Australian woman but louder and much more needy. The other sounds like a cartoon version of a human-sized stick bug that wears what she would call a ,,Safari hat,, and loves picking berries. She is always worried that somebody forgot that they left the kettle on and is always late to get someplace. She,s very proud of her figure for how old she is and how many eggs she has laid. Her veins are prominent and even they produce a horrible pitch. I hate her and she makes me sick.
The Blind Slye Twins - It,s Me Again Lord
Somehow the stick bug,s husband is almost inaudibly quiet when he mumbles and has an accent that no other person has ever had. It,s like he took every word that does not translate from English into another language and built his vocabulary out of that so it is impossible for him to be understood by me. He walks behind the stick bug and carries her bags of food as she screams about the kettle. He,s a ,,builder,, back home and is awful.
If the stick bug is the one that stinks I will ask her to leave. I don,t want to get too near her because she is so piercingly loud and cackling but it would be nice to identify the sulfur spring that is leaking these poisonous gasses into the world. I am starting to feel sick to my stomach. If I throw up I,m doing it right here - in plain view of them. And I will face them. And I will keep my eyes open. And I will look at them.
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