The man who rotted to death
Now I am going to tell you a tale, not like any other tale you are going to hear this evening because of one thing, this tale is true and only happened a few years ago.
A few people on this site may know me but you may not know this… a few years ago when my children were smaller I was the area controller for the evening mail, not a very scary profession I can hear you saying.
No its not, but this is about one customer….Bert and his dog called spud. Bert lived not very far from me and I he had been a customer for many many years. It must be said here and now, he was the most miserable and grumpy man I have ever known. I used to knock at his door and he would swear until the air was blue as he made his way to the door with his beloved spud. He may have been a misery but he had two redeeming factors about him, he treasure his dog and was kind to the paper kids, every Christmas he gave the biggest tip in the whole of the midlands to his paper boy.
Again you may say not very scary, well hold onto your hats …here it comes. One day when I knocked he appeared more grumpy than usual, he was also limping. I asked him what was wrong and he explained he had bumped his leg and the wound was not healing. Being a good soul I suggested he went to the doctors, he chose not to. Each week from then on he would come to the door limping worse and worse and cursing more and more.
The house had begun smell of something rotting, obviously kept nagging him to go to the doctors, he simple said no. You see it had now got so bad he didn’t want to leave his dog and go to hospital. His dog was this grumpy man’s one source of happiness.
Weeks went by, the smell of rotting flesh got worse and worse. Eventually he could not walk, his skin was rotting off his whole body now and leaving a trail of slimy gunk on the floor. He took to his favourite chair, and prepared himself for death.
Oh no I hear you cry, this cannot be allowed to happen, well the doctors were called but he was in sound mind and if he choose a painful rotting to death death, then he was allowed to. I continued to call, just in case he changed his mind and needed me to call someone, you see I was his only visitor, but all I was greeted with each week was a naked man in a chair with a large bottle of whisky and a very loyal dog. At this stage the chair was his home, he couldn’t move, but you couldn’t smell the excrement because the smell of the rotting body was so strong. If you have ever smelt death, this is the smell.
Burt died an agonising death with his dog by his side, I knew he had gone when I passed the house the following day and his chair was in the front garden, a large black hole where he had sat made from his rotting body.
You may have thought how sad, but it never ended then.
It started with a smell that began follow me around, a smell of death. I washed and washed but couldn’t get rid of the smell. People began to avoid me, it was embarrassing. Customers who used to speak to me, now had their money ready and virtually threw it at me when I answered the door.
Then there was the thump thump noise that started to follow me, it sounded just like the noise bert made with his walking stick in the early days of his illness.
Everywhere I went I heard thump thump…now as you can imagine I was becoming freaked out with this. But it takes a lot scare me and I put it all down to my over active imagination but when I began to leave a gooey sludgy mess of rotting flesh behind me everywhere I went, I couldn’t ignore it anymore, I was being haunted by bert!!!!
Omg I cried as the realisation crept in, as you all ay know I regularly cry OMG….but you may not know this was the first time I ever used the phrase.
I did what every does in that situation, googled “ how to get rid of a ghost” after much searching I found the only way to get rid of a ghost is to find out what it wants. Well I popped of to a shop, picked up a oijee board and asked Bert.
That was scary, my whole house started to smell of death and rotting flesh, as Bert thundered out in his grumpy voice” my dog, where is spud, look after spud or will haunt you forever!”
I had at the time 2 dogs and really didn’t want another one, but what choice did I have, to spend the rest of my life smelling of a dead corpse leaving a gunky trail behind me or own an extra dog. So that’s what I did, I made some enquiries found where spud was in the local rspca and took spud home to meet my other dogs. …I arrived at the rescue centre smelling of rotting flesh, but you will be pleased to know left smelling of nothing.