this morning #413.

this morning, he barehandedly yanked at the bedroom drywall with all his might, opening up a jagged chasm that, with a quick flashlight flick, revealed the source of the smell: a putrid pile of squirrel corpses. years of smoking had decidedly destroyed his sense of smell, so it was likely that these rodents had been rotting for days before his nose woke up. when he went to bed last night, he was just happy that the nighttime rustling had ceased & he a few straight nights of solid sleep under his belt. now it was clear why. now, instead of calling the exterminator, he would be calling animal control. he’d be taking his breakfast out in the backyard, where any squirrel he saw would still be full of life.