The Stinky Lady

The Stinky Lady


Today I went to the dollar store. It was my first stop on a day long sojourn of shopping. I awoke in a good enough mood; my toothache had subsided a bit, I had the day off, and I had a little bit of money in my pocket. Those three miraculous events rarely occur in my life. I am continually plagued by bad luck, aches and pains, disappointment, and lack of monetary blessings.

So with a heart full of holiday spirit, thanks to our local radio station that plays 100 percent Christmas music, I began my adventure.

My initial reason for stopping there was measuring cups. I got the measuring cups, then passed by the basket section. There were some cute and sturdy red and white baskets, so I grabbed a couple. I then strolled to the front of the store, where they keep all their poorly made winter needs. As I was sifting through the flimsy hats and gloves, I smelled it. The odor was heavy, and smelled like someone had poured the contents of an overnight chamber pot into the hat bin. I was nauseated, and immediately stopped my search. There was a lady beside me, not poor looking, not rich looking either. She was perusing the hats as well. I politely excused myself and went to the Christmas decorations, where I was glad to get away from the hats and their stench.

I was relieved for only a while. I smelled the strong urine-feces-BO aroma within two minutes. The lady was beside me again. She didn’t look dirty, nor did she look like she was carrying a loaded depends. I thought it couldn’t possibly be her. So I surreptitiously headed to the wedding and birthday aisle, where I knew she probably wouldn’t be.

The odor was palpable and I turned around. She was looking at party favors right beside me. I had to get away. It had to be her! I managed a brisk clip to the snack section, where I believed the yummy little summer sausages were hidden. (Let me tell you. If you ever have an opportunity to indulge in a Nordic Chalet Summer Sausage, do it. They are fantastic!) But I digress. When I had loaded about fifteen of those little beauties into my shopping cart, my heart sank. I could smell her again. She was heading rapidly down the aisle, her scent following her like the tail of a kite. It was so overpowering, you could actually see it… Not really, but you get the picture.

It was like an expensive perfume gone awry. The first note left behind was the urine. Then the more pungent notes of death and feces combined, followed by a bouquet of God Help Us All.

…

I decided to go to the bathroom, because I really do have a bladder the size of a pea. That, and I had to go poop; badly. As if reading my mind, Stinky Sally turned around, releasing a fresh cloud of her essence, and made a beeline for the lady’s room. I stood there with an incredulous look, holding my breath, waiting for the scent to die down a little. There was no way in the world, no matter how horribly I had to go to the bathroom, that I would follow after her.

Sooooo. Doing the pee pee dance, and trying hard not to do the other thing, I practically lunged to the check out lane. There were two people in front of me and two people in the next check out lane, so I figured I had time to get out of there before Odiferous Odessa emerged again. I felt like paying for a bar of soap and stealthily hiding it in her shopping cart, but my tunnel vision prevented me from doing so.

The first guy had a couple decorations in his cart, so he moved quickly. Still no sign of the Smellmeister.
Then the sweet little lady in front of me couldn’t get her holiday mugs to ring up, and the cashier kept trying and trying and trying. Meanwhile, I was praying that I would be out before Stinky Pants emerged from the bathroom.. Wouldn’t you know it, the sweet lady in front of me was having trouble finding her money in her purse. Meanwhile, I’m sweating bullets, trying hard not to crap my pants. I began doing Lamaze breathing to get me through the ordeal.

Before Grandma Sweetness got her money out, Gagatha had joined the queue behind the other cash register. Good, I thought, the line is moving fast, she may get done before we do.

I almost had it. I was this close. I could smell her as she got closer. Miracle of miracles, she arrived at her register, just as I was arriving at mine. Only seven feet away from me, my eyes were watering, and the back of my throat was burning. On the bright side, I temporarily forgot I was going to load my drawers. So with my luck, my tenth summer sausage refused to be read. The lady tried and tried, as she had done with the adorable grandma (she really was a cute thing) Still no luck. With unpracticed fingers, she slowly punched in the UPC code… (FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, LADY IT’S ONE DOLLAR! EVERYTHING IS A FREAKING DOLLAR! DON’T THEY HAVE A JUST A DOLLAR BUTTON ON THE FLUFFIN CASH REGISTER?) She made a mistake entering the numbers, and had to start over. Meanwhile, Eau De Restroom woman was having a lengthy conversation with the other poor cashier , who nodded and “yepped” in all the right places. Good thing she was the last one in that line…

She got done before I did, and I waited until she was thoroughly out the door and into her surprisingly nice car before I exited. The urine note struck me first…



Epilogue:


I managed to make it to Walmart, and ran immediately for the restrooms. As I got up from my frantic relief fest, the automatic toilet flushed on its own; violently, savagely, it sprayed the toilet seat, and probably me, with what I had just given it.


Oddly enough, I still have the Christmas Spirit!


But… I can still smell her in my mind’s olfactory memory storage, I’ll probably have nightmares tonight.



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