The Tale of Two Stinkie Sisters for Sarah Price

This is the first of my stories, whereby the dedicated person has provided the first sentence (in bold) thus inspiring the stories creation. Some have been harder to start than others. This one just flew out of the pen.

For Sarah, my stinkie sister, I hope you like it:

Once upon a time there were two sisters, a big one and a little one. Both were stinkie, really stinkie. They never washed their socks, they never combed their hair and they never ever had a bath.

Fortunately they lived in Stinksville, where the castle torrents rose higher than anywhere else, if only to avoid the rubbish building up below. The smell however rose and filled the air with a noxious gas no visitor went near. But to the locals, it was pleasant, akin to roses even (though their roses were brown rotting affairs, but that was all they had ever known).

Living amongst this the two sisters fought wildly.

"I'm far stinkier than you" cried the big one

"Not at all, I'm the stinkiest, just look at my loyal flies" roared the little one while stamping her feet.

Just as a side note I should explain. Here in Stinksville, flies are a sign of prestige. The more you have the better, and so they are collected as you would designer handbags, shoes and fast cars.

This fight was endless, stretching back many years, and although the big sister was 4 years older and should have had an advantage, the little sisters habits were so disgusting that truth be known she had overtaken her big sister on the stink stakes a long time ago. Deep down, big sis new this and sulked. Why was her nature not strong enough to be a garbage diver? It's not as if little sis even got paid to retrieve lost items from the mounting rubbish piles. Oh no, she did this for fun, a hobby, and she was famous for it! Her ghastly pong would surely always overcome that of Big sis, unless...

Big sis hatched a plan. A naughty evil little plan, as all the best plans are.

In the centre of the city was the Smell Bank. Millions of glass capsules each containing the original scent of what ever item you requested. The perverse even bought scratch and sniff cards of their favourite scents. The more obscene; freshly cut grass, laundered clothes and the likes went for a lot of money, but then it was only weirdo stooped men that bought and snuck away to their dark rooms to sniff those. Dirty beggars!

Still within those millions of capsules lay her plan.

A rumour existed that some clean blood outsider had insisted as a matter of health and safety that every capsule to be fitted with an emergency release valve. The sceptics said this was so outsiders could release the toxins trickle by trickle and poison them with honeysuckle and daises.

Well the truth was not too far removed. In fact so desperate were neighbouring towns, that when the usual methods of disease and reduced birth rate failed to kill of the city (the city was immune to such things), they had presented the Smell Bank as a gift. 'A celebration of the most intoxicating', was the swindle, or should I say marketing spin. What the locals didn't know about was the master plan of operation Flower Power. At the flick of a switch a bomb so intense in perfume would detonate and eradicate the city in a whiff! But why the delay in pressing it? No matter, Big sis had her own plan.

Luring Little sis there was of course easy. The promise of a particularly rank gift did the trick. And so then to the plan...a screaming contest. To stand in the centre of these glass capsules and each scream. Being sisters they would compete obviously, each would try harder, a higher note achieved each time. 'Little sis would partake in her own downfall', chuckled Big sis.

She whispered the dare into her ear , to make it seem all the naughtier. And Little sis took the bait without a moments hesitation.

Arghh!

Arghh!

Arghhhh!

They screamed and screamed, their faces red with effort, and finally the first glass capsule shattered to the floor. Its scent released,  the relatively harmless smell of custard, but those near still screamed in horror and scarpered as fast as they could.

And so with more screams, more capsules broke, more scents released, encouraging the panic and yet more screaming. Around them chaos, and something worse. A silent invisible poison. Rasping, their throats dry, the poison entered their lungs, clung to their clothes and seeped into their skin. But the sisters stood on, planted in their duel their heads thrust back, screaming ever louder at the ceiling.

They fell, let it be said simultaneously,  into the silence.

Above them, the most prized capsule, it's crack glistening in the sun light. Sewer Gas H2S

The End