For this story it is important to know my husband Mike:
- Owns about 40 different personal hygiene products that produce 40 different pleasant smells.
- Is a hypochondriac convinced he’s dying at least once a day.
- Hates it when I call him “dude.”
All of which added up to a VERY enjoyable day for me when he suffered a hideous case of bad breath.
Zombie Breath: A Love Story
A Reality Show One Act Play
We open on a husband and wife working in their home office… the wife makes a face like she just smelled Ashton Kutcher’s acting career.
me: Dude. You STINK.
Mike: Did you just call me “dude?”
Mike: I do not stink. What are you talking about?
me: The whole room stinks. You’ve made the whole room stink.
Mike: I do not stink. You stink.
me: The dog just walked by and he was wearing a little gas mask. It was sad and a little scary.
Mike: Shut up.
me: The house plants all just died.
Mike: SHUT UP! How? Smell me. (leans toward me)
me: *sniff* Not your arm… *sniff* Not your neck. Breathe on me.
me: Holy hell. You STINK. You’re rotting from the inside. MIKE, THE SMELL CAME FROM INSIDE YOUR BELLY! GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!
Mike: That made no sense.
me: Like the horror movies where the call comes from inside the house—
Mike: I know what you MEANT. It’s just stupid.
me: Maybe you’re a zombie, purifying from the inside. Has anyone sketchy bitten you lately?
Mike: You’re SUCH a nerd. *sigh* What does it smell like?
me: Like garlic and gin… with a touch of death.
Mike: I don’t even drink gin!
me: Apparently, when zombies drink red wine, it turns into gin. Google it.
Mike: … … I’m dying. I knew it.
me: You’re not dying. Possibly already dead, but not dying. What have you been eating?
Mike: Shit. You know what? Last night I made a salad dressing and dumped a bunch of garlic powder—
me: (covering nose) Could you make this story a little shorter?
me: Or turn your head while you’re telling it? Can I spritz a little of my Prada “Candy” in your mouth?
Mike: What the hell! We can’t go out for lunch if I STINK that bad!
me: We can sit outside in the breeze. People will be like *sniff sniff* WHAT IS THAT SMELL?? but by the time they start to zero in on you, the breeze will confuse them and they’ll think a sea gull just dropped a dead crab nearby.
Mike: This SUCKS.
me: The fact you’re a zombie, purifying from the inside? Or the fact that now I have to chop of your head to kill you? Because my original plan had always been slow-acting poison, which would be less messy, but that doesn’t work on zombies.
Mike: THE FACT THAT I STINK. I’m going to brush my teeth again. Hold on.
(he leaves, I hear gargling, he returns)
Mike: How about now? (breathes on me) What’s it smell like?
me: Mint… and death. Minty Death.
Mike: This is horrible.
me: What did the gold miner say when he found the gold?
me: U REEK AH!
* Special thanks to AquaNotes (waterproof notepaper that suction cups to the wall in the shower) which I found on Twitter (@ShowerThinker) and immediate had to order. I am very much a “shower thinker” – a phrase they use in their marketing. Bonus – you can trade notes with your mate, whom I imagine also showers (assuming you’re not a couple of dirty hippies).
This is not a paid endorsement for AquaNotes or The League for Washing Dirty Hippies (LWDH).
Latest posts by Amy Vansant (see all)
- Apologies to the Teacher at Wine-Drinking Painting Class - June 30, 2015
- BookBub the Siamese Fighting Fish - June 15, 2015
- Cherubim – Angeli II - June 8, 2015