The Odor of Invasion

Mr. Lester sat at his kitchen table and opened the envelope lying beside his plate of scrambled eggs. He assumed his wife had gone upstairs to shower and that the letter had been overlooked in the pile of yesterday’s mail.

He unfolded the paper and read, holding the coffee cup just under his chin. Afterward, he placed the cup down on its saucer, refolded the letter and slid it into the envelope.

Mr. Lester arose, walked to the front door and opened it. Dressed in his three piece office suit, he had a full morning of appointments scheduled. His neighbor across the street, Mr. Bailey, having returned from his jog, raised his arm to wave. Mr. Bailey’s envelope still sat by the microwave, where he would soon heat up the water for his packet of instant oatmeal. Mr. Lester raised his envelope above his head and released his bladder’s entire volume. The dark stain splayed outward from his zipper, widening and descending along the inner seam of his slacks.

Mr. Bailey lowered his hand then flinched as a scream arose two houses down: Mrs. Miller stood on her steps pointing across the street at Mrs. O Malley, hunched over her roses, panties down around her ankles pulling the cheeks of her buttocks far apart. Loose brown stool sprayed from her rectum. She clenched the envelope between her teeth.

Mr. Lester’s wife Beverly, having just finished reading her letter, opened the upstairs window, thrust her bottom out and strained while farting and grunting simultaneously. A ten-inch rope of stool dangled for a moment then fell, narrowly missing Mr. Lester’s head, splattering the welcome mat.

Mr. Lester remained motionless, maintaining his envelope aloft. Sirens could be heard in the distance as smoke twisted upward from the more densely populated areas of the city.

The odor of invasion swept across suburbia.