THE SMELL is gone. Finally. That moth ball and fish smell. There is no worse combination on the planet. No, cancel that. Old male urine and stale booze-soaked skin is worse, and just as hard to get off your hands. People are just asking for trouble when they smell. It’s a silent way of saying, "I don’t belong on this planet, please remove me." There is no other acceptable explanation. She was screaming and gurgling something in Chinese, I guess it was, her stupid little pink plastic bags full of bok choy and fly larvae strewn all over the alley. Her breath was so bad I almost puked right there. God I hate bad smells. No one heard a thing, Chinatown is so noisy and dirty they probably won’t find her for days anyway. Why did she pick me to sit next to, the bus was practically empty? That was bad enough. Her leg touched mine, ew. Actually she almost sat on me. Then came the smell. What makes anyone put their clothes in moth balls? I gagged as I skinnied past her fat ass to get to my own scent-free seat. How do Chinese people get fat anyway? I though they lived on fish and vegetables. Perhaps the devil Western diet gets to them; they gorge themselves on McDonalds and Kentucky Fried Carcass until they look ten times oilier than usual and their eyes bug out, their teeth buck, hair frizzes up, ugh I’m getting sick again just thinking about it. Then she gave me a dirty look because I chose to sit elsewhere. What the hell? You’re gonna stink like a rotting corpse and give me attitude? You have to go. She had to go; I don’t care if there were 20 young ones at home waiting for mama to bring home and fry up the bok choy and baby flies. I did them a favor, she was disgusting. I jammed several wadded-up pink plastic bags and an empty can down her throat; alleys in Chinatown are always good for a Duchamp since they’re already so full of garbage.

Oh, I call it "Duchamp" when I use found objects to kill someone. It’s very convenient. Thanks Marcel you brilliant bastard. I like to think it almost looks like some kind of weird suicide, like the horrible creature couldn’t take the burden of her miserable existence any longer so she jammed an evaporated milk can and several pink plastic bags down her own throat. That’d be something to see, wouldn’t it? I marched briskly out of the alley to Broadway, over to Powell, and jumped on the cable car back down to Bush. My monthly MUNI bus pass really is convenient, I must admit. I was out of there in about three minutes, she really went down easy all things considered. Not much fight in the old gal at all. One less smelly disgusting meat puppet creating waste and clogging up the landscape and the bus. I feel good. I think I’ll order in some Thai food tonight. There’s some leftover Chardonnay; so I’d better make it seafood. What’s that sauce I like, tamarind? A whole fish with tamarind sauce. Yum. Dr. Bronner’s peppermint castille soap is the best thing I’ve ever found for getting blood and smells out of clothing and off of hands. And the bottle is fun to read too. Very informative.