:(
I had a mate, Clive, who went through a bit of a rough patch, OK a full paranoid schizophrenic break down. He stopped going to work, let himself go and generally declined along with the odd talk about suicide. I’d been away with work for a couple of weeks and when I got back a mutual friend said my nutter mate had ‘disappeared’ for at least 10 days.

I went round his house, it was December and fucking freezing, let myself in and was immediately struck by;
1. The place smelt of rotten meat.
2. It was just as cold inside the place as it was outside
3. There was a pile of post on the floor.

I called out a couple of times. No reply.

Headed upstairs to his bedroom. The door was shut.

On opening the door the smell hit me like a punch in the face. I took a few seconds to steady myself and went in. The bedroom was no warmer than the rest of the house. The duvet was in a mound on the bed with just a little tuft of hair poking out the top.

I knew from the smell it was going to be grim, really grim but I still wasn’t ready for it, even as I gently moved the top of the duvet to uncover more of the hair.
“Oh! Hello RoF. I thought I heard some one come in.” said Clive. I called him a dumb fuck there and then, I can tell you.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Thu 5 Apr 2012, 18:09, Reply)