Once she was done, she picked up his underwear, shirt, shoes and socks and separated them into three piles. Krystyn stuffed his sweat-stiffened, smelly socks into the depths of his odiferous, tattered, black running shoes who’s sides were adorned with black grimed, diagonal rubber stripes that had once been the purest shade of white when they were new and said, “I’ll be glad to get these things out of my house! I’ll bet you can smell them from where you sit! They’re positively rank! How can men put on shoes like these? They reek to high Heaven!”
“Because most men are babies and don’t realize how smelly they are,” Becky replied with the knowledgeable smile of an experienced mother of a baby boy.
“Well, these things are not even fit to give to Salvation Army!” exclaimed Krystyn, “They’re going straight to the industrial incinerator along with his wallet and anything else that might identify him! If I bag and put a few drops of garbage deodorizer in the plastic bag, do you think you might have time to drop them by Rachael’s house tomorrow? Since she’s the plant security guard at the auto factory here in town, she should have no problems disposing of these the way she usually does for me. I don’t want to leave any evidence, but you know how I hate to take one of my ‘babies’ out of the house until he’s adjusted to his new life.”
“I’d be happy to leave them with Rachael,” Becky answered, “I have to go by her house to give her some ingredients for an experimental incantation she’s working on anyway, so it won’t be out of my way. I’ll call Sheila tonight and have her remove his things from his apartment by the usual means.” She chuckled and said, “By tomorrow, all of his physical property will have been transported to a garbage dump in other cities!”
