Leaving Smelly Street

The smell of food sometimes travelled through the air until it greeted you several streets away. When I say smell, it’s not always the unpleasant kind. Sometimes it made you want to knock on the door and ask the residents of that home if you can join them for dinner.

At other times, it made you want to call the police to have the offenders arrested. But the worst offenders were human hearts. Have you ever had the chance to smell human hearts? Probably not!

I got to, and there were serious offenders on Smelly Street. Sometimes their hearts stunk so badly that you could pick up the bad smell miles away.

One day I saw a victim on Smelly Street, and I asked the poor bloke, “What’s wrong?”

“She ran,” he said, “with all of my savings and I don’t even know her last name!”

Poor guy was only dating her for a week!

The next day, I woke up early to go for a jog and I saw a young girl crying. I asked, “What’s wrong?” And she said, “My mum’s boyfriend sexually abused my younger sister, now the police are all over the house.”

Instead of jogging I wanted to go kicking boxing, but no centres where open at that time, so after apologising (like I committed the crime) and I ran miles, the longest I ever did.

A couple of days later, as I emerged out of the home I was staying in, I ran into a childhood friend. I had not seen her for many moons. She looked distraught! I asked if she was alright, and she initially said she was. But as we chatted, and I reminded her of the days that I was a great friend to her, she told me her mother-in-law had been putting horrible things in her food, so her husband wouldn’t eat it.

It included she said, “… bleach, rat droppings, and one time, her own faeces!”

That’s when I left Smelly Street, for even her good food was no longer something that would turn my stomach with desire!

© K. Leeban