Posted on Wednesday, September 2, 2009
in Family, Strange and Unusual
The Accidental Terrorist wombled into the sitting room this morning as he usually does, making a beeline for the kettle.
“Augh! This place reeks of piss!” he exclaimed, covering his nose with his fart-soaked dressing gown.
“No it doesn’t!” I am always in defence of the smell of my house, covering up the reek of wet dog is important to me.
“It does! It stinks in here!”
“All I can smell are flowers?” I pointed to the vase of white lillies on the table. He ambled over and inhaled.
“That’s it!” he cried; “get rid of them, they smell like piss!” Irish men are so romantic.
“Wha? They smell like lillies – unmistakably floral… what’s wrong with you? Hash plants smell like piss! Unfortunately there aren’t any in here though.”
“Hash plants smell lovely!” he retorted.
“No, they’re renowned… they smell like cat’s piss.”
It was one of those arguments. I offered the suggestion that perhaps he was smelling by association, that it’s common to find white lillies in hospitals which do invariably smell like piss, especially in Ireland. That didn’t work. I offered to collect a specimen of piss in a jar so that he could compare aromas, but he declined.
I’ve come to the conclusion that TAT’s nose has been eternally screwed up from the C.S. gas he was tortured with during his training in the army, and there’s nothing I can do.
I’m going out for the day, I’m going to fuck with his head by placing bowls of dogshit in hidden spots around the room. Purely in the name of scientific experimentation, of course.