Speaking of smells, last summer my wife came back from grocery shopping and handed me two bags along with instructions to "put these in the storage room and the freezer downstairs." One bag obviously contained various meats so that went into the freezer and the other with unknown contents went into the storage room. Weeks went by without incident until we began smelling something real nasty in the house. Convinced that something had crept in and died, we searched the house from top to bottom. It didn't take long to locate the source of the stench- the storage room and that seemingly innocuous second bag, which in fact, contained not only dry goods, but the smoldering remains of three family size packs of chicken legs and several packages of hot dogs. I darn near passed out carrying the stuff to the garbage bin in the garage. Garbage day was still a few days off so of course, that just stunk up the garage. I moved the bins outside. After noticing the neighbors pointing to our house with hands over their faces, I dragged the offensive bin to the back of the property and buried its contents in a shallow grave. The following morning the kids came running back into the house with watery eyes complaining of something at the back of the property. I went out there and discovered that in the night, some vile beast had dug up the grave and spread the still smoldering hot dogs and chicken around the yard. I dare not imagine what manner of creature would actually be attracted to that smell but whatever it was, even it feared to eat any of it. My wife came out and demanded I clean up the mess and dispose of it. "How?" I asked. We eventually determined to burn it in our fire pit. I got a healthy blaze going and bit by bit threw in the offensive material. At last (albeit reluctantly) the unholy stuff was consumed by the fire. The memory of that smell still haunts me to this day.
