The Dirty One

I accepted an invitation to your house after lunch. You told me you lived alone. You simply said, ‘you can come to mine while I grab my charger, I’ll drop you home on the way to university.’

I remember feeling a sense of unease as we arrived at your front door and was greeted by the clear sound of a dog barking from inside. ‘Don’t worry,’ you remarked, ‘Scooby won’t do anything, he’s harmless.’

After entering and taking Scooby out into the back garden, you returned and welcomed me in. I hadn’t intended on taking so long to enter, it was merely that my shoes were being held back by a sticky residue that appeared to cover large areas of the Living Room.

     I looked down and saw what looked like a drink had been spilt weeks ago and was ignored. Keeping a fake smile on my face, I took about a hundred mental snaps of the sticky stuff that had meshed itself onto my Adidas branded trainers. How deplorable!

     ‘What would you like to drink?’

     ‘Nothing, thank you. I’m alright.’

     ‘But you said in the car that you were thirsty?’

     ‘Oh, I’m alright. I was thirsty, but I’m okay now that I’m indoors.’

     ‘Are you sure? I’m going to grab a drink. Take a seat, we can chill for a bit before heading out.’

You motioned to a mountain of stiff clothes and bitty newspapers. I walk nearby but remain standing. Then I spot it, the brown blob near the fridge, a large brown pellet with like black/green moving dots on them.

It’s shit! You have shit on your kitchen floor, right beside the fridge. The fridge you’re opening and seemingly oblivious to the flies that are feasting on what I imagine is the overly nourished bodies of maggots, bugs and possibly a microscopic creature we’ve never even heard about before.

I notice you down your drink directly from the bottle, place the lid back on loosely and pop in back into the fridge.

     ‘One minute, I’ve just got to run upstairs and grab my charger. Help your self to fruit if you like.’

     ‘I’m alright. Thank you for offering.’

I glance around and see the following images, that I know while reading you’ll find shocking to even believe.

  1. Urine on the wall near the kitchen door, I can’t tell if it is that of the dog or from him.
  2. Glimpses of the colour of the kitchen floor beneath the kitchen table, it appears that the floor was a light grey. Now it is covered with layers of dirty footprints, paw prints, rotten bits of food, chicken bones and of course blobs of shit – by the fridge, but the untouched dishwasher and a collection beneath one side of the kitchen table.
  3. I counted around 6 boxes of pizza, and a plethora of silver takeaway trays delivered fresh, consumed and never taken away.
  4. By the sink, I see a congregation of maggots!

My stomach churned, bubbled and on no, I threw up on the stiff pile of clothes. I go running out of the house, but the dirt is ripping my ankles. It takes me a whole 92 seconds to get out without brushing past anything. I get to the end of the drive, inhale and throw up once again.

I turn around and look up, at the window staring back I see The Dirty One. He’s smiling and waving his charger.

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