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Written by Dean Flewwellin   
Friday, 12 March 2010 09:32

As we go through life, there are specific enjoyable aromatic smells that dwell in our memory.   The perfumed scent of a woman, chocolate, barbecue, and salt air are at the top of my list.   But the opposite is true too, where the stink and the stench of foul odors permeate your brain.   The following would be some of my most memorable fragrances.  

During the early sixties, my best friend became superintendent of the new Jacksonville, Florida "Poop Plant."   Officially, his title included "Sewage," but we also had other vulgar titles for him.   He worked about a quarter of a mile down the road from my job, so I would visit him quite often.   When I got close, I had to cut off my car air-conditioning, or the inside of my car would smell like one of those well used porta-potties at the county fair.
My employment at the Standard Oil plant wasn't much better, as I used to load black Bunker-C oil into barges, in a slip on the St. John's River.   It normally took another employee and me about eleven hours a night to load three barges.   One clear starry-filled night, while loading the third barge with the hot oil, I was enjoying my normal star-gazing.   You had to keep checking into the hatches with a flashlight to see when to shut off the valve.   If you heard the oil bubble up into the hatch, you were doomed, and oil would seep over the top of the hatch.   It would slowly ooze across the deck as you spun the valve wildly to shut it off as soon as possible.   One night, the stars were twinkling in laughter, as I heard the blub-blub-blub of oil in the hatch.   My loud cursing alerted my partner several hundred yards away on top of the storage tank.   The smell of the sneaky hot oil was strong, and cleaning the mess up for two hours allowed it to linger in my nostrils.   I had to use diesel fuel, rags, and a shovel - so was similar to a mixed drink stink.   When I arrived home that morning, my wife wouldn't let me in the house, so I had to take off all of my clothes at the back door.   My shoes went straight into the garbage can, and me straight into the shower.   We could still smell my oily work clothes from inside the house, so they followed my shoes.
Late one evening, as a hundred of us Boy Scouts explored a very large tree hut, the walkway gave way beneath us.   I was able to grab a nearby tree, but seventeen Scouts fell about twenty feet to the ground.   They all had at least one broken limb.   However, the heavy stench of blood, sweat, old wood, and dust made it difficult for me to breathe.   The screams of pain certainly didn't help either!
One hot day in Baltimore, I was helping my boss with a Shell Oil pipeline. I was learning to weld, but hated those darn sparks that kept leaping down the back of my neck.   On this day, he was doing the welding, and I was standing by with a fire extinguisher.   I noticed a small puddle of liquid near us, but I figured that he had seen it too, so I wasn't worried about it.   All of a sudden, that puddle caught fire, and I sprayed it.   But not before his shirt caught fire too, so I sprayed that quickly, and that type of extinguisher would also freeze the skin.   So the combined smell of burning oil, clothes, and flesh was quite significant.
One evening, my Dad and I were standing together on our second floor porch, which overlooked the Atlantic Ocean.   We were  watching a strong thunderstorm with lightening bolts zig-zagging all over the sky.   Suddenly, a bolt struck the front of the porch, and all we could see was a large white flash, that knocked us both backwards and against the door.   The bolt had singed both of our eyebrows off, so the aroma of burnt hair and skin was nauseating.
As avid seashell collectors, I drove my family to Cedar Key, Florida, to dig up live whelks from the mud flats there.   Now mud flats themselves have an obvious stink of their own.   We dug up about two dozen whelks, drove home, and put them on a table in our back yard.   We had just bought a new four bedroom house ($13,500) in a large subdivision, and blue was our featured color.   A blue house, drapes, kitchen and laundry room walls, master bedroom, both washer and dryer, outside air-conditioning unit, a 2-story combination fort and sand box, the clothesline and poles, and a large red "F" on our blue garbage cans.   This house was located in the middle of a two-block street.   Each morning, the bus would drop off a few dozen maids in white uniforms who spread our across the area.   So I had forgotten about those little whelk bodies cooking for three days in ninety-six degree heat.   As I drove home from work late on a Monday afternoon, I started to smell this very strong stench three blocks from home.   As I turned onto my street, it became even stronger, and suddenly I knew the culprit.  The culprit was I!   I parked, grabbed my shovel, and buried those whelks as quick as I could.   Not a single neighbor ever mentioned the stink, and I didn't either.   I never even dug them up, so assume they are still there.
My "Honey" has over fifty cookbooks, and can't cook very well - to this day.   Mostly because she never liked to cook.   Her kids can recite the five meals she cooked for them until they left home (spaghetti, gumbo, jambalaya, beef stew, and meatloaf). However, in our tiny apartment, she has joined with the Devil to fry weird stuff (eggplant, baloney, onions, asparagus, okra, tomatoes).   She always cooks it too long, the smoke always sets off the smoke alarm, always makes me turn on all of the ceiling fans, & I always open the door and kitchen window.   I have asthma, so I have to move that rancid cloud outside - or I go outside in my shorts - summer or winter.   My "Honey' is petite, so the smoke alarm screams until I can breathe, and come back in to fan it with a magazine.
A loud tribute to the cook!
Quite often, when people become elderly, health concerns come to the forefront.   If you have diabetes, it causes you to pee more often.   Then a one-seater potty can be utilized, and especially beside the bed at night, which saves time and effort.  Get out...get on...get back in.   Now somebody has to dump it and clean it.   I have had that experience for several years.   At least the aroma is familiar!   You have heard of a "Po-Boy and a "Pool Boy"....well I'm the "Pee & Poo Boy."
As a teenage Boy Scout, I was carrying several items to an elderly lady in an upstairs apartment in my home town.   I recall the she was an especially nice lady, and I always enjoyed talking to her.   It was one of those hot steamy ninety-six degree days in Florida, but that was nothing compared to what hit me after I approached her door.   The overwhelming foul stench of a body that had been dead for three days, suddenly hit me like a wall of death, and I staggered backwards.  I had never smelled it before, and hope I never would again.   I ran down the steps to phone the police.   Later, when I inquired about her, I was stunned by their answer.   After she died, the heat built up in her apartment, until her bloated body burst.   That wasn't in my Scout Handbook!
One evening a few years later, my buddies and I were driving to Gainesville, Florida, to watch our high school basketball team play for the State Championship.   We suddenly came upon a fiery car wreck, with three black men laying on the ground.   Our driver drove to the next town for help, while the rest of us tried to help wherever we could.   As I bent over the bloody men, I could smell the strong odor of booze.   When I asked where they hurt, it was very difficult to understand them, especially the one with a hole below his lower lip. His tongue would keep slipping through this hole when he tried to talk. We tore their shirts to do our best to bandage them, and apply tourniquets. One had his guts laying out, and he smelled heavily of vomit.   One of  my friends began to puke too.   The police finally arrived with an ambulance, so we backed off to let the professionals do their jobs.   We cleaned up....our team won.....and a few days later, we won the State Championship.
I always asked my Dad for his opinions concerning any problems that I had, and he was always right.   I had a huge career problem, and he told me, "the more you stir up shit - the more it stinks!"  I told him, "Dad, I'm sure you are right, but they insulted our family name, and I'm going after them."   I did....won two major battles....then lost the war.   Career over!   Marriage over!   To this day, I still believe that I had to "raise a stink!"    C'est la vie!

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Hildi - 03-19-2010 05:54

i remember Art!!!!! That show was funny....Dean, loved this piece..
Mean Dean - 03-20-2010 06:35

:woohoo: Thank you "Jersey Girl!" :woohoo:
Mean Dean - 03-18-2010 15:43

:evil: I held out cigarette & cigar smoke, because it seems to be the all time winner of stinking up our planet, with plans for a separate article. I happened to receive an alert from a group in Minneapolis, MN, who had read an article of mine about "Stinky Buttheads." Thus, I was asked, & joined, this anti-smoking group which was the first to get smoking abolished indoors. This was "The Minnesota Clean Indoor Air Act of 1975." I helped to push for smoking to be abolished in our federal building cafeteria, then the rest rooms, then smokers had to stand outside - 90' away from the 3 main entrances to the building. Not easy in South Dakota blizzards! I also utilized my "bully pulpit" while editing a national publication for 18 years. I was heavily motivated as an asthmatic since the age of 2. :angry:
stinky smells
jenniebug73 - 03-18-2010 10:38

I work in a processing plant and the smell of poop, guts and blood cling to me all day.when i pick charley up from preschool she makes me ride with the windows down because she says i smell awful.lol :side: my mother in law let charley eat six boiled eggs one night before bed time needless to say she ran us out of the bed.she thought it was funny. ;)
Mean Dean - 03-18-2010 15:13

:D I think Charley is funny too! Did you ever read the book by Art Linkletter, entitled "Kid's Say The Darndest Things?" Art had a very popular children's show on radio, & then TV (1930'S & 40'S - I believe) - wayyyy before Jenniebug & Charley Doodlebug were born. :whistle:
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