The one about the dead pigeon ….

I haven’t told you about Saturday night yet – I have left the best for last.  I suggest you put your poppy seed muffin aside for a bit, or eat it quickly before continuing to read.

Dinner ends, everyone goes home, and after saying goodbye to everyone, I walk back into the house.

I get this bad odour that whips past my nose at a certain area in our lounge.  I have been getting the same tinge for the last few days, but keep putting it down to something that is happening or not really dwelling on it.

It is not a strong odour, but it is a bad odour. 

Our lounge is not used much, and we have big sliding doors that are left open, so the smell was not strong, because (1) we had not been in the lounge and (2) there was constant flow of fresh air coming in.  The upper and lower door have also been open, so there was a lot of air flow during the week (because it had been so hot).

I stand there – it is about 22h00 on Saturday night – and instead of just walking through the lounge I stop and sniff, and this rather unfortunate smell assaults my nostrils.

I really hate a bad smell, and I know it has been hanging around for a few days, so I know I can’t ignore it anymoer.  It definitely is not coming from outside (as initially thought).

I stand and ponder this for a moment and then my beady eyes start moving around the lounge.  Our lounge is quite minimalist (which equals not well decorated and not a helluva lot of furniture) – so I am standing there looking around, trying to suss out where it could possibly be coming from.

Our lounge floor has white tiles (circa 1985 – the disco era), so it is not as if something could have been messed and absorbed into the carpet.

I consider that one of the kids could have dropped something on the floor and it could have rolled under the couch and that could be the smell I was getting.

I put my back into it and heave the couch about a meter from it’s present position, fully expecting to find a rotting apple.

What I did not expect to find was a great big dead pigeon!

Super.

Sounds like a job for Kennith.

I headed downstairs to the tv room and called for Kennith (and John – who is staying over) to come and sort the pigeon out.  I realize he was not going to be performing CPR, I just needed him to pick it up and throw it away. 

I do live animals, Kennith does dead animals.

Our tv room is on a level just below our lounge and there is a glass wall separating the two.  From the tv room I can look up into the lounge.  I close the door and sit in the tv room with Connor and chat to him, while I watch Kennith.

Now what happens next is put together from what I could see and hear, and what Kennith and John told me about the next day.

Kennith gets the big broom and the dustpan scoop and thinks he will just push the now deceased pigeon into the scoop.  Put him in a plastic bag and throw him away into our outside dustbin.

Easy enough.

What Kennith does not account for is that said pigeon has been dead since Monday (it is now Saturday) – and as he lifts the pigeon up with the broom, it allows the real smell to escape.  The smell of rank death.

Kennith is now gagging, not play acting gagging, but full on leaning over, eyes watering man-gagging.  John has entered the scene with the plastic bag he has found, and he takes one sniff of the odour of Senor Pigeon and he starts gagging, and leaves the room.

I am in the tv room and all I can see is this drama unfolding through the glass.  I can’t quite see the pigeon or smell the smell, but I see these two boys in a total state of mayhem in the lounge.

Kennith composes himself and uses the broom to try to move pigeon onto the dustpan scoop. 

Seems like another good plan.

However it seems that now pigeon has lost control of his inner organs due to what ever happens after rigor mortis stops, and his entire insides are now this greeny sticky slimey goo that is running all over our floor. 

But to detract from the smell of death and disease, is our troupe of friendly maggots who have taken up residence inside the pigeon and are now trying to flee the scene of the crime.

Kennith is trying to scoop up the pigeon, trying not to get pigeon death on his feet, and trying to round up the fleeing maggots in his dustpan scoop.  All whilst trying very hard to hold on to the pasta dinner he has just eaten.

Pigeon ends up in bin. Kennith and John are both feeling rather ill – and Kennith asks me to clean up the pigeon juice which is has leaked onto the lounge floor.

This is one of the few times I have been glad for white tiles.

I get jik and a bucket and clean the area, and lift little carpet and chair up, and leave everything to air.  Horrible, horrible, but problem sorted.

We all go to bed and that is that ………… or is it?

I really really wish it was.

Next morning Kennith, John and Natalie get up, put on some lycra, and ridiculous hats and go off and ride the Argus Cycle Tour.

I walk through to the kitchen at about 7am to get Isabelle a bottle, I walk into our little scullery and there are thousands of ants. 

I am like: “What the f&ck!”

I wish I could say I said “oh my goodness” but I didn’t.

There is a throng of ants – the part that is more confusing is we have not had much in the way of ants since we have lived in this house.  My brain is trying to understand what the hell is going on here and why would they appear so quickly.

Between the cussing and the confused look, I lean over to examine the ants.

Only to discover that among the ants are MAGGOTS – dozens if not hundreds of them!

I am like:”You are shitting me!”

My brain cannot spring into action.  My brain tries to look around for the dots so it can join it and make the picture.  I really cannot function unless my brain goes “there you go, dots connected..”

I am standing there staring at ants, staring at maggots, trying not to throw up, and trying to understand what is the connection from last night to now. (the scullery is two levels away from the lounge and there is no way even the fittest maggot could have got this far!)

Then I see it – the broom and the dustpan scoop – carefully placed right there next to the fridge, right next to our potatoes and other vegetables!

Excellent!

Guess who took a free ride up the levels via the broom and the scoop?  No prizes for getting this one right.

Of course at that point I was feeling less than gratious towards Kennith.

I mean seriously ……… seriously! 

At least I had the sense to take my bucket and mop outside after cleaning up after the CSI scene, and put them outside next to the house, not in the middle of the f&kn kitchen with our food!

Besides now standing in shorty jammies, and having Isabelle screaming for her milk – I am now up to my ankles on a Sunday morning in ants and maggots.

These are without a doubt, the best days of my life!

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