This story takes place in the same setting as a previous story, also called “Stinkers”–you can find parts one, two, three and four of that version at the links. This isn’t a sequel, it’s not exactly a retelling, it’s something I tend to call a redux (though that doesn’t have a specific meaning, it’s just the word that feels the most right to me). This is probably more info than you needed, but deal with it!
“How about you, Eric?”
“Huh?” Eric said, looking up from his locker to where a few of his teammates had been chatting a few yards away. He hadn’t really been listening very hard–he’d been thinking about what he needed to do to get ready for a couple of tests coming up next week, as well as an essay he had to finish. This was the time of the semester he hated–in the thick of the football season, and classes were ramping up for midterms. Eric wasn’t kidding himself–he’d never be going pro, but football was a handy was of helping him get an education, especially considering he didn’t come from a very wealthy family, unlike some of the other guys on the team. “What were you talking about? I wasn’t listening.”
“I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my place tonight, with some of the guys,” Tom said.
“Thanks, but I have a few tests I have to study for.”
Tom groaned, “Ugh, Eric, you’re such a fucking bore!”
The rest of the guys around laughed, and Eric’s turned red in the face.
“Have you got booze?” one guy asked.
“Of course!”
“I’ll be there.”
“No girls, right? It was fucking awesome, last time you had that guy’s night.”
“That’s what I was thinking too!”
“Is Greg still there? Dude’s fucking awesome.”
“Yeah, he’s still crashing with me.”
Eric pulled on his shirt and thought it over again. He could afford one night for some fun at least, and study the rest of the weekend. Tom was always throwing parties on the weekend, and Eric had only taken him up on his offer a couple of times early in the semester, and he always felt a bit left out to be honest. He might care about his studies, but a guy has to have fun too, right? “You know, I think I can come tonight,” he said.
“Hell yeah, that’s the spirit!” Tom said, came over and clapped him on the back, and Eric was taken aback by how strong his musk was. Usually they all stank after practice, of course, but this was another level altogether. “Fuck Tom, did you shower yet?”
“Whatever man, so what if I stink?” Tom said with a laugh, raised an arm and took a deep whiff of his own musk, the other guys laughing. “Come on you guys, let’s go get the party started already!”
The rest of the guys all threw on their own clothes, and together, the group of them crossed campus, and followed Tom to the house he was renting with a few other guys off campus. In his disgust with Tom, and in the hurry to catch up, Eric realized he himself had forgotten to shower, and felt a bit self-conscious. All his life, he’d hated how much BO he could generate, and it didn’t help that he usually sweat like a pig during practice. Hopefully no one else would care too much if he stank as bad as Tom did, or hell, even a bit worse.
They got to Tom’s place, the rest of the guys all jeering and laughing with each other as they climbed the steps and went inside–Eric was in the midst of the pack, and Tom let them all inside before following behind them all. Eric hadn’t been in Tom’s place since the beginning of the semester, but the place was a mess–dirty clothes were strewn everywhere, the air was stale and stank of smoke, musk and cheap beer. The rest of the guys all seemed to not mind, but he was a bit disgusted by it, and hung back a bit, wondering if this was really how he wanted to spend his Friday night, and Tom caught up with him, standing in the hallway. “What’s up man?” he said, putting an arm around Eric’s shoulders, that musk assaulting him again, “Make yourself at home!”
Eric shrugged off Tom’s arm and resisted the urge to gag at his teammate’s stench. That was more than just musk, there was some outright filth in that pit. “You know? I…really should get to my place and study tonight. I promised a guy in my class we’d work together on some stuff, and I don’t really want–”
Tom slapped his forehead, interrupting him, “Fuck! This is your first time here, isn’t it?”
“I was here a couple times when the semester started, but–”
“No, I mean you haven’t fucking met Greg yet!” Tom grabbed Eric’s wrist and pulled him deeper into the house, passing through the living room where the guys on the team had all settled in for the most part, most of them with a beer in their hands, a couple even smoking cigarettes or cigars, lying amongst the dirty clothes and mess, most of them seeming…kind of close to one another. “Hey Greg!” Tom called out, “Where you at man? I got someone new from the team you gotta meet!”
“Who’s Greg?” Eric asked, “One of your housemates?”
“Nah man, Greg’s just passing through.”
“What?”
“You know, like a couch surfer and shit. Greg! Where you at?” Tom called again, and they heard a thumping on the stairs–and some pretty heavy thumping at that. Tom tugged him around the corner of the living room, and there, coming down the stairs was a huge, fat older man, probably in his forties or fifties, with his head shaved, a massive beard down to his hefty gut, wearing nothing more than a wife beater so filthy his was a light brown and a pair of disgusting briefs similarly shaded, smoking a cigar.
Greg was grumbling a bit, but when he saw Eric standing there he grinned around his cigar, and hurried up his pace. “Fuck boy, another teammate a yers?”
“Hell yeah–you’ll like this one I think, and he sure could use some of your help, that’s for sure.”
Bracken's Corner 