About a fishmonger

A guy who finds bad smells to be invasive

About a fishmonger

Sam shook his head as he walked past the market stalls, the smell of fresh fish swimming restlessly in his nostrils..he lamented the selfishness of smells as they invaded other peoples nostrils without permission.

Walking through his front door, he could smell that his wife Harriet had been baking mince pies. Usually a delight, his mind was perturbed and indignant at a new invasion.

His wife handed him a pie. “Harriet, how dare you!” he roared, throwing the pie to a ground in a crash of ruptured pastry and splodge of mincemeat.

Harriet slapped him to the ground and stormed off. He considered the legality of unwanted physical tough and violence, the hot sting still fresh on his face. One could take legal action. Sam retreated to his private study and spent many an hour crafting a bulletproof legal document, albeit with tissue up his nose to calm his own delicate senses.

 

The next morning, at the cold hard crack of a vengeful dawn, Sam left the house with his new document taped to his shirt. What he had conjured was no less than a restraining order against all smells! As he approach the fish market, he felt a purity resonating within himself, the fish odor steering clear away from him.

 

What the fishmonger witnessed that morning was a 6 foot bedgraggled man in a suit, his own indignant excitement in place of a much needed morning coffee and shower, spouting lyrical about the personal freedom of his own senses, his right to his own experiences and pursuits, pointing to his new document as he shouted that his horrendous, foul fish market should have no place within him.

Sam then paced away, full of pride and ready to face the world.

“What a strange man” said the fishmonger, getting back to business.