Filthy dirty filthy

When I was growing up I was taught to bathe, wash my hands after using the bathroom, throw old food in the trash, scrub the floor from time to time etc...

Really a no brainer for me. Dirty things smell bad, attract bugs and aren't pleasant to look at or be around. I keep my house orderly...not perfect by any means for the most part tidy.

I met one of my future best friends in 7th grade. Gary was an asshole. He was a smart and funny asshole. As long as I wasn't his target, it was enjoyable to watch him at work humiliating jocks and bullies, making teachers cry...yes he was that good.

Not many other people could see the good in him, so I became one of his small group of friends. Gary was a pain in the ass but the sheer entertainment value of his escapades were something to behold. When confronted by a school administrator for not following a procedure or administrative rule. He could have them stammering and backpedaling with his biting sarcasm and logic. It was like nothing I had ever seen before.

Gary often skipped school, blaming his asthma as an excuse for sitting at home and watching TV. He could miss 40 days of a school year and still make straight A's

He lived two blocks from me, so I walked over to his house to hang out with him one day after school. In this fairly nice neighborhood , Gary lived on the one and only street where the yards had no grass and there were more cars up on blocks than were running.

When he opened the door I smelled dead fish. I asked him when they ate seafood and he said never. I decided that it must be my imagination. A few weeks later after meeting Gary's mom, I was invited to spend the night . I accepted the invitation and went over with my pillow and sleeping bag. This was my first sleepover and I was looking forward to getting out of my house and hanging out with Gary.

When I got there and rang the doorbell, Gary's younger brother opened the door and once again I smelled the dead fish. This was strange, I just knew there had to be a bait shop or something near by.

After going inside I finally realized what was wrong.


Gary's room was literally 3 1/2 feet deep in trash, food, dishes, dirty clothes. It stank like hell.

It took me the better part of an hour to clear out a place to put my sleeping bag. and then I was afraid of rats chewing my ears off when I slept. I told Gary he was a disgusting dirty mother fucker but he just laughed. He wore his badge of filth with pride.

I went into the bathroom Gary shared with his two younger brothers. It was covered in shit, piss, hair and the toilet seat was broken in half and hanging off to the side. But I really had to go bad, So I grabbed some cleaner and scrubbed a spot so I could half squat over the commode without getting their filth on my pants.

They didn't believe in toilet paper either. I had to rip apart an old magazine I found on the floor.

I just couldn't fucking believe how dirty these people were. I went into the kitchen to get a drink of water and I saw a pile of rotten meat on the counter covered in maggots. I about lost it at that point.

Throughout the weekend, I didn't complain in front of Gary's mother.That would have been rude.

Seriously, It was the most putrid vile smelling house I had ever been in. Gary, his mom and brothers thought everything was perfectly normal. They were joking about me being some kind of weird clean freak when I wiped off a place at the kitchen table before I sat down to eat the pizza they had ordered.

I don't know what I would have done if they had prepared food in that maggot and slime infected pit they called a kitchen.

Taking Gary aside, I told him "dude you and your brothers could be taken away by the state for living in this mess" He didn't believe me and said I was being a pussy about the whole thing.

Needless to say, from that point on Gary came to my house for the weekends.

A few years later, Gary's mom and brothers moved to California. Gary was given a choice to go with mom or stay in town and live with his dad.

He chose to stay. His dad and step mom were much cleaner. I didn't mind going over to their house at all. He wasn't allowed to be such a disgusting bum at dad's house.

There was only one problem, Gary had never been taught to wipe his own ass. There was never any toilet paper at his mom's so he just learned to walk it off.

One day I saw his dirty underwear in the corner of his room. It looked like someone had taken a chocolate bar, put it in their skivvies and walked around for several days.

It was enough to gag a maggot. I was standing there gawking at the pile of shit covered underwear when Gary's step mom walked in to collect the laundry. She took one look at them and said " Uh Gary I'm just going to go buy you some new underwear."

She was a sweet lady and I could only imagine what was going through her mind as she grabbed a broom handle and carefully lifted the soiled items and placed them into a cardboard box. Gary didn't care . He wasn't at all ashamed of his Hershey stained and stiff as a board unmentionables.

Being Gary's friend in my teen years didn't do much for me in the girl department.
Hanging out with a stinky rude abrasive asshole was not good for my social standing. More on that later...