What's That Noxious Smell?

A Story by Greg Belding

"What's that noxious smell?" I mumbled.

My roommate Misha had this smell about him that was about as unattractive as his game with the ladies was. As I would find out later in life, Misha was the kind of guy who would f**k his little brother behind the family Christmas tree. While he was home on Christmas break. While he was still living with me at University of Illinois. But that's neither here nor there.

There was also the ever present douchebaggery of the people in the business classes I was taking at U of I. And the fact that I was a chubby. And the fact that my grades were shittier than an a*s on the Monday morning following a Sunday night barbecue. But that is also neither here nor there.
Don't get wrong. College was great. It was fun. Eye opening. Mind expanding. Culturally diverse. And all the other bullshit that high schools, career counselors, and the financial aid screwheads want you to think when your teenage a*s enrolls in college.

Maybe it really was here. And my reasons to to change life paths really were there.
"Chad what are doing tonight?" Misha and Alex, one of our mutual friends, asked as I walked in from a restless Saturday of trying to study. I used to study at the Engineering library because the building was beyond cool and I figured that engineers studied "they asses off" and I could do the same. Too often I was mentally sidetracked by girls I wanted to f**k, my hangover, my possibly negative balanced checking account, some porn that I was into at the time or classic web surf f*****g off. It was always something. Those days were too often a wash.

"Probably just chillin' tonight. How 'bout you guys?"

Their responses were awkwardly timed and even a total tardbox would know that something was up. Earlier that day they asked me to leave so they could watch a movie together. I didn't think anything of it at the time but they wanted privacy for some gay sportfucking. I'm still shocked that I didnt know that both were gay.

Misha mutters "We're gonna finish this movie up and call it a night early."
"Sounds good. My brother heard back from USC law school and he was accepted. I'm thinking of studying for the LSAT."

That was about all I said to them for the rest of the night. I retired to my room for a bout of LSAT studying. In reality, my "studying" was an hour of practice questions followed by hours of mental masturbation online.

The next morning I woke up with an even stronger feeling of restlessness than the day before. This wasn't some strange hangover where you are actually more productive. Which had happened to me before. No sir, this was more of a punch in your face fire under your a*s that moves you in the direction of what you are supposed to do with your life. A calling was ever present that day and I answered.

Sunday mornings for me were always more productive for me than for others I knew. Probably as a result of being an early riser no doubt. This morning was no different - ok it was in that I was more productive than normal but you get the idea.