Barley, hops, and death
I view myself as a fairly pragmatic realist; one not wont to give in to superstitious proclivities. That being said, I can honestly attest to the fact that I have detected the small-hair-rising, chilling sensation of being in the presence of a ghost. They say that beings of the supernatural are often most identifiable by their odor, and the essence of my otherworldly guest was peculiar indeed. His itinerary was set months in advance, as Facilities Management greased the mystic tracks. You see, the University is switching to a centrally based vending system and installed network cabling at the beginning of the summer. As I walked to the lab today, I detected the smell of blood, carcasses, canister oil, stale beer, mildew, and freon. The only explanation for the strong scent was that Frosty was back. Back to avenge his brutal slaying. For it was I who planted the thought in TBG's head to hack him to bits that fateful night. It also didn't help that I dropped him from the back of a U-Haul the spring before, no doubt causing him nearly as much injury as the keg dolly whose flat tire (which exploded at the abrupt conclusion of the fall) was legendary. Terror.
But then, it was just the smell of a new vending machine running for the first time. Maybe the Foamerator didn't smell like rotting flesh?
The Ghost of Frosty Past
But then, it was just the smell of a new vending machine running for the first time. Maybe the Foamerator didn't smell like rotting flesh?
The Ghost of Frosty Past
Post a Comment
