Being the smelly kid

It only takes one person to call me stinky to get me all bent out of shape about my pheromones.

No one, not nobody (apologies Madame for the double negative), no one in their right mind wants to be the smelly kid.

Just a fortnight ago, I heard a campfire story about a smelly kid in a friend’s class. The kid walked across the balance beam in gym class. His foul odor offended his classmates. So my brave friend sucker punched him in the kidney from the back, taking the law into his own hands. I’m sure smelly learned a thing or two about deoderant and after shave.

My workplaces has been smelling like burnt vacuum cleaners and asshole. One enchanting young man accused me of this putrid impropriety. The last three days I have been PARANOID that I am the cause of the stank.

I shower.

I lotion.

I perfume.

And that dreary olfaction follows me and my shadow!

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One thought on “Being the smelly kid

  1. You know who says:

    Maybe you should stop calling people stinky……

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