The Poop room

There is a part of town where all the young bars are. It is the affluent, yuppyish, well to do part of town where things are nice and the people gather to socialize. It is usually no big deal to work over there, other than the fact the houses are historical and need new wiring, but the people and insides are generally nice.

One house I approached looked just like all the others on the outside. It was a 1940's brick home, with newer remodeling done. The home owner opens the door and I enter. Inside is the typical pier 1 layout. All the prints on the walls, the pillows, the furniture, all run of the mill current style. The one peculiarity was the smell.

It was the smell of what I imagined a large fruit plantation would smell like after the harvest rain. All the leftover fruits have fallen into the leaf litter and begun to rot along with the fertilizer laid down for next year. All of that, but wet and moldy. It was quite odd, and nothing I had ever smelt before. I had a job to do, so I ignored it and started surveying the television for the reasons it was acting up.

My investigation led me to believe the issue may be outside, and I asked the customer the best way to get out back. "Should I go around front, or do you have a back door?"
The customer smiled, and with a motion of his hand said, "Follow me through the poop room."

He led on down a hall, and to a room with a door leading outside on the opposite end of it. Between me and the door was a room sized chocolate cake, with a thin slice cut from the middle of it. There was several inches of caked dog shit covering the floor except for the path that was worn down by continual paws treading over it. With a gag I tread through, and made it outside. I redid the outside and had the customer check the tv to see if it worked. Thank the goddess it did.