Stanky Leg Mga Nobela at Kwento

Dedicated To; °To Whoever Reading This° ♣️♟️♠️ *You Can Fight Love But you Will lose* Bille Elish ~ Bad Guy🙃 The flaring heat of this tiny room. The continuous dropping of water droplets from the aged old kitchen sink. The uncomfortable stench of blood, sweat, and cocaine makes my body itch. My right leg which I drape over my left begins to wiggle impatiently, a tick passed on to me by my dearest father.

The large, hard fingernails were stained yellow from cigarette smoke, and there was black grime beneath them. Was this girl going to touch his hand with her leg? They could never believe that a rascal had the nerve to say that!

At least I had a pair of pants on this time. “I got impatient.” Stank explained, with a small bitter smile. His left arm had been bandaged, and now he was an ear short; I took pride in that at least. Many were scared of Stank, maybe it was due to his cruel nature of handling things or the fact that he was the founder of this… business. That’s what this was. He took us from our home and brought us here to fight each other. Our death was entertainment. Other rogues paid to watch each match, and that was how he made his money.

“Sonny, are you dying because you smell awful? What the hell is that?” She stood there wondering if he’d soiled himself and looked him over and noted his leg closest to the back of the sofa was rolled up and he had a large gaping wound on the leg which was very infected. Sasha considered it was the kind of infection in the movies maggots crawled out of. She gagged at the smell and pulled her t-shirt over her face. “Oh Sonny, this is why you were limping the other night. You foolish old fart.” “Why are you standing over me with a crowbar? Here to finish me off?” his raspy voice made her jump.

Or any other non-vampire for that matter. The whole mine reeks of vamps, like a fucking cesspool of eviscerated decomposing body and rotten eggs. And I don’t mean eggs a little yucky and past their time. I mean the kind that explode the grey muck of ghastly stench that poisons your olfactory memory for the rest of your days. It’s fucking revolting. The fuck? Do they just not have noses? How the hell can these vamps live trapped in this stink?

It just smelled dank and musty, like pee. Fuck. Holy fuckity-fuck.

He staggered, one knee buckling. Then the air shifted. My nose wrinkled instantly. The stench hit me like a punch to the throat—sour rot and burnt metal. My stomach twisted. That smell. My breath caught. I whipped my head toward Gabriel, panic crawling up my spine. “That stench… Gabriel—it’s them. It’s the Stingers.” His jaw clenched. “I know. I can feel them.” His eyes darkened, hands already balling into fists. “They’re close.”

“If you really want to.” “He’s not nearly as stinky now as he used to be,” Laurie says. “He earned the name Mr. Stinky Pants when he was a baby. You don’t even want to know what he smelled like back then.” She pinches her nose and waves a hand in front of her face like she’s blowing the stench away. That gets a bubble of laughter from Hayden. “My mom’s friend has a baby. He sure smells bad too.” “I’m afraid we’re all stinky from time to time,” Laurie says.

The prank kind—once lit, they released an unbearably foul stench that clung stubbornly, almost impossible to wash off with water or detergent. Listening to Diana and Natalie's pitiful cries outside, Cyrus chuckled darkly. He picked up the stink bombs and walked toward the door.