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Old Bag Perfume

                                                                             OBP

 

I know it's not nice to call them old bags. Life-experienced may be more appropriate.  But I'm sorry. I just can't handle it. My lungs yell out.  I've heard them.  What the F is with the OBP?  After I run away as fast as I can and cough my lungs out, It occurs to me.  Maybe it's all part of their evil plan to weed out weak, allergenic, entitled pricks like me. You know, have a few laughs before they cash in their chips. I'm sure they're organized too. There are probably thousands of wrinkle skin people, who are pissed enough that they're getting older, who are somehow concerned about body order and have no, I mean no sense when it comes to scent. It's like that old lady who spices up her food with hot Sause but instead of hot Sause, it's a stinky moisturizer. Similar slogan. I put that smell everywhere. Any place that might cause a weird unrecognizable stink, gets covered up in stink.  

I'm sure they meet weekly. I've seen them at big M's, drinking senior coffee and planning their attack. I use the drive-thru for obvious reasons. I like to breathe between sips.  The ring leader is a retired school teacher who wasn't allowed to wear scent at school. Her name?  I won't mention it, just in case I get it right. Little Miss nameless had it all. Plastic boobs, Botox lips, big hair and fuzzy sweaters. She stunk as a teacher but she couldn't stink as a teacher. Oh, the sweet fragrance of Oxymorons. 

Can you imagine roll call at the Big M.   Okay Betty, you get the long line at the bank. Joan, you go to the casino and flush out the Keno players. Judy, you got the big box store and feel free to eat as many samples they can hand out before they faint. Now we know why the men go to the big T across the street. They know their wives stink and they found the only hiding place other than the hardware store to hang out at.

Heaven forbid they run out of their twenty-five-pound bottle and have to go to the fragrance counter. The scene must be a treat.

Excuse me miss, can you help me. The salesperson looks at her and thinks Oh shit, it's one of them. The lady says I'm looking for some moisturizer. The salesperson says Here's a popular fragrance that all the life-experienced ladies wear. It's called Old du toilet. The lady asks, Why is it called that? The salesperson chimes in, she wants to say Because it smells like shit and it probably should be flushed down the shitter but decides to be diplomatic. It's the best moisturizer for your skin (Thinks to herself wet paper bag wrinkled skin) with just a hint of fresh cut flowers ( Like a rose being crushed by a hammer) and essential oil.  The lady is now curious. No Really, what's in it? The salesperson looks at the twenty-five-pound bottle and reads the ingredients. Oh let's see. Moisturizer, embalming fluid and potpourri. 

Well, you do want to have nice skin and smell good on the way to, well you know.  There she is laying there. It is a sad day. After all the years of practice and she finally made it to the pros with three-quarters of a litre to go. I'm sure one of her friends will get the unused stink as a going-away present.  I can almost imagine the conversation.

Look at her. She looks so good. They did a great job on her. Good thing she had that head start. We will miss her, lingering smell. 

The above was created for your amusement. Just for a laugh. I like older people. I am one of them. But I don't have to stink as one. Please let me know if I do. 


Thanks for stopping by. If you like my stories, I would love to hear from you. Feel free to comment and share.


Denny D


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