Novel & Cerita Smelly Foot Stories

The elevator ride down was gross. Killian reeked of weed, Derek smelled like bourbon, and Riley just stank. I wasn’t the only one who thought so. “God, it’s like ridin’ the underground in Paris in the summertime,” Miles muttered. “What do you mean?” Ryan asked. “Buncha Frogs without any deodorant, and they still smelled better’n you lot. Come on, out, out!” he yelled as the elevator door dinged open.

All of it given less distance to travel before it reached the mouth. The yard smelled of whiskey, beer, charred meat, old oil, wet concrete and male heat, with grief still moving through it in heavy unseen currents beneath everything else. Someone was telling another story about Elara near the grill, and by now the stories had turned half mythic through repetition, patched together from memory and feeling rather than fact. No one cared. The point was not accuracy. The point was that she remained present for another hour in laughter, in argument, in the names of things she had hated and loved, in the pack choosing once again not to let the night pass in silence.

"Are you saying I'm a stinky breath like you?" "Yes!" Was Lissa's loud and irritated reply. "It actually smells like a foot that had been wearing a sock for weeks and it got wet in the rain. In short, it smells like a foot, more like poop." Anthony latched on Lissa until he was almost laying on top of her, just until his foot was on top of Lissa's nose. He pressed it against her face even more, forcing the latter to sniff it. "There, that's what a foot smell like. Enjoy."

With Conrad’s physical capabilities, he was less tired than he was stuck. All of a sudden, a rancid odour attacked everyone’s nostrils. Some even gagged from it. Even Angie’s eyes watered. What was that stink? It was horrifying that they could smell it through their masks. Everyone looked around while waving their hands, trying to locate the source of the stink. Fumes rising from the bottom of their boots caught Angie’s attention. She raised her foot up and realised that the soles were corroding away. /It didn’t get this bad in the book./

Is Amara’s catty reply. Haley rolls her eyes and places her hand on her hip. “I don’t know if I want to be friends again that badly. I mean, have you seen those things.” She gestures to my dainty feet. “It looks like you haven’t had a manicure in…ever.” His upper lip curls with disgust, which makes us all break out into gales of laughter. “I’ll have you know, ladies, my feet smell sweet and are as soft as rose petals.” Amara snorts in reply. “More like smell like sour cheese and are as rough as sandpaper. I don’t know how Rowan deals with them scraping against him at night.”

But before I could get close, a pungent smell of fermenting pig manure hit my nose. Inside the dilapidated pigsty, several black pigs were grunting as they fed. And kneeling right in the middle of the pen was Steve Malone. The same Steve who would lecture me for three days if I went to bed without showering was now holding a pig dung-covered foot with a reverent look on his face. The foot belonged to a woman built like a water tank who was chewing on half a raw sweet potato. "Professor Malone," she said, "there's chicken manure on my foot, so how can you smell it with such delight?"

Leaf scoffed and walked to the ground, foolishly stepping on it. "Ewww, this is so slimy and disgusting. Is this mucus?" She asked as the goo icky stretched along with her foot. "Back to the sea with me," she rushed back to the water to wash her legs. "Werewolf nose, this thing smells so bad," Gomez whined. "It's not that bad. It's like sliding through a freshly waxed hallway to annoy the janitor," Ace said buoyantly. "Excuse me," Ann snorted. "Hallways don't look like mucus-dipped scales with the smell of rotten flesh!" She huffed out in annoyance.

This was it. The tough convenience store girl who was always conflicted in the face of food. It matched the system's vague description perfectly. [Mission 'Anti-Zombie First Kiss' updated!] [Target Found: The woman inside the grocery store. High probability candidate. Warning: This girl has food-related trauma and may reject a kiss if you smell like fish.] Bima felt his face heat up. Fishy odor? Damn it, it was because of that drain. He tried rubbing his clothes, but the smell seemed to have bonded with his very soul.