The Gruesome Morning Discovery

Something happened this morning when I went up to wake my teenage daughter up for school at oh my goodness why in heaven's name are you up o'clock, or in other words 5:30 A.M. (I think in this case the A.M. stands for Almost Morning)

As I round the landing and start up the last couple of stairs I start to smell a funk. A funk that as I got closer to her door. When the door was opened the smell about knocked me over.

It was that bad.

Then I ran into the bathroom and had a horrible thought. That stench could only be rivaled by rotting corpses.

Now I have never smelled a rotting corpse, but I am positive that it smells just like this.

OH.MY.GODNESS.

Is my teenager a serial killer?

Because mounting smelly corpses in our former master bedroom could only equal one thing.

I should have seen the signs. The obsession with body parts-I mean every time I turn around the kid is drawing hearts on her hand. I always ask her not too, but its like she has to do it.

The sleeping all the time. I mean, lately she has been napping whenever she gets a chance. This has to be the result of all those late nites, doing God knows what to those poor bodies.

The constant need for new clothes. Never mind that she claims she only wants them because they are cool & hip and everyone is wearing stuff from American Eagle and Aero. It must be because I am doing the laundry now and so she can dump her blood stained clothes down the chute for me to wash.

How am I going to tell my husband? Do I have to call the cops to nark on my kid? I am sure that they have names for people who do that, and a special place in hell.

So, I bring the subject up to her. Carefully scanning the exits out of the room in case she realizes I am on to her. The second story isn't that far up if I try to land in the shrubs in the front of the house. Which luckily for me, her bedroom happens to be right above said shrubs.

She says she can't smell it, claims the cold is blocking her sinuses. I say she is probably shoving the bodies in her mattress, it seems particularly lumpy and the smell seems strongest there.

sniff, sniff, sniff

My nose brings me to need to look under the bed. I don't want to, I am scared. I am cursing my husband for having pole climbing school this week and leaving me alone with the killer the teen so early in the morning.

I reach my hand under the bed, ever so slowly. I touch something, it seems familiar. I think to myself, "Of course its familiar you have all those same body parts."

And as I turn my head away, keeping my eyes closed tightly, I give a little tug on a bag. I slowly turn my head and open my eyes, waiting for a survior something to jump at me.

What?!!?

It can't be.

So yeah, good news. Giggles totally isn't a serial killer. But those gym clothes and tennis shoes that she has had shoved under her bed fermenting into the lovely aroma I am smelling all over the place. Yeah, well.....I am totally burning those.