When you ask someone to do you a favor, there is certain etiquette that you must show them.  Since they are doing something for you, it is important to be gracious, appreciative, and polite.  It is a time to tolerate their idiosyncrasies, for it is not appropriate to bring up petty problems – even when your nasal cavity is being violently violated.

Over the weekend, I was having a major OCD moment and frantically needed to clean my house.  You know that feeling when your inner life is so frenzied that you feel a compulsion to organize your surroundings in a desperate attempt to quiet the insanity of your mind?  Yeah me neither.

So I texted my brother Laszlo, and asked if he could hang outside with The Munch so I could make order of the chaos.  Laszlo courteously complied, and came over to assist.  After some time in the fresh air, the two of them came in for dinner.  Laszlo was talking to me in the kitchen, and I started to get distracted by an incredibly strong scent.

At first I thought I had left out a fine cheese – one that was so expensive that the more pungent the odor, the more money it cost.  I then remembered that no, I don’t even eat cheese, so that couldn’t be it.  It also occurred to me that perhaps something had died, and the carcass was decaying between the walls. Or even that a poltergeist had farted.

The more my brother and I conversed, the more the aroma overpowered the room.  It was like my nose was being raped.

Yet there was something strangely familiar about the fragrance.  I knew I had made its acquaintance before.  As it wafted further into my adenoidal passage I looked down and noticed the culprit.

As a well-mannered houseguest, my brother had taken off his shoes.  Of course he had – Laszlo is a civilized being who respects the home of another.  The kind soul that he is, my brother did not want to track dirt into his sister’s abode.  Yet what Laszlo must have forgotten about was the fact that his feet smelled like hate.

It reminded me of the time that Laszlo fell in the Charles River when he was on the sailing team in high school, and waited 2-weeks to shower after being bathed in the sewage.  Why he made this choice we will never know.  Maybe it was an anthropological experiment? So I had smelled the dank moisture of his moldy leg-ends before, but this was something special.

Here was my dilemma.  My brother had just helped me out! He wasn’t doing anything wrong.  I too push the boundaries of hygiene.  Who am I to say what a body should smell like?  Yet at the same time, I was starting to taste the scent.

Toni: Laszlo…. Ummmm….. I don’t know if I can take it…

I looked down at his feet.  Laszlo looked down too.

Laszlo: It is not my fault.  I have to traverse through a marsh to get here! My feet are constantly wet.  Feel them!

Toni: No really.  It is okay.  You can put your shoes back on though.

Laszlo: You know what I really need?

Toni: Some new socks? Do you want me to get some for you?

Laszlo: No. I need Laszlo slippers. That way I can just put my slippers on when I get here.

Toni: Done.

Although I am going to get my brother slippers because I love him… according to Munch, the kitchen still smells like Uncle Laszlo