Road Kill Ran Us Out Of Town

I wound down the car windows expecting to smell the freshly mowed grass of the cricket ground.  Instead my nostrils were assaulted by the foulest smell imaginable.

“What the crap is that smell?” Pippa demanded clutching her nose.

“Probably crap I’d say,” Kate replied.

“Please don’t use the word crap,” I admonished.

“Well, what would you rather we say?” Kate asked.  “What the frig is that God awful smell that makes us want to spew our guts up all over the car?”

“It’s probably silage,” I glared at her.

“Seriously Mum! Even I know silage doesn’t smell this bad,” Pippa groaned.

“Please wind up the windows before it kills us?” Kate begged.

“Oh come on Princesses. We’re farm girls now. It’s time to toughen up!” I said.

“Then unblock your nose and take a deep breath,” Kate demanded.

I ignored her but did wonder how Will and his team mates were not succumbing to the rank air out there on the cricket ground.  And what about all the parents watching the match?  How were we the only ones smelling this vile smell?

Then I heard from the car next to us, “What the hell is that smell?”

“It smells like rotting flesh,” came a muffled reply. “Must be a cow in the creek!”

“Must be a bloody big cow,” I heard before their windows were hastily wound up again.

The smell was now unbearable and we watched as people ran back to their cars, locking themselves inside.  I did feel sorry for Will and his team who were left outside to continue play.

“Do you think we could leave and come back later?” Pippa asked.  “I’m starting to feel a bit sick.” And obviously she was, as she had turned rather pale. Kate wasn’t much better.

So we left the stinky grounds and drove to the nearby village.  Parking out the front of a café we were disappointed to find the smell was just as strong as before.  We ran inside and sat down at a table as far from the door as possible.

Minutes later the owner of the café came to take, I presumed, our order.   I was surprised when he asked if it was our car parked out the front.

“Yes it is,” I said puzzled.

“Then I will give you $100 if you promise never to park it in front on my cafe again,” he said angrily.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because the smell from your car is driving my customers away,” he said trying not to shout at me but failing miserably.

“What do you mean?” I asked insulted.

Then I remembered.  On the drive in I had accidentally driven over some poor, unrecognizable animal which had been killed hours before.  That poor animals insides were now spread under our car. We had been all the smell all along. How mortifying but I did laugh and laugh and laugh much to the girls disgust.