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I have fleeting recollections of childhood, largely made up of stockings, pant legs, shoes and rugs. Really their smells; the smell of polyester and leg skin; the smell of leather; the smell of adult. The smell of blood. Not that I had anything to do with that.

Date Written: May 11, 2005
Author: Alfred P. Whitaker
Average Vote: 3.75

05/18/2005 Will Disney: No one can deny that this one is very short!
05/18/2005 Turgid: Hey narrator, get off the ground already.
05/18/2005 Mr. Pony: I'm really more intrigued by the smell of adult.
05/18/2005 TheBuyer (4): pretty.
05/18/2005 qualcomm: solidish. title error.
05/18/2005 qualcomm (3):
05/18/2005 The Rid (3): Eh. Not bad. Could actually use a little more!
05/18/2005 anonymous: I've been away, not that you need to know where. I've changed the title, which was a placeholder.
05/18/2005 Mr. Pony: Welcome back, author!
05/18/2005 Jon Matza: Pony--you've been had! The author HASN'T been away. Nor is he back. He didn't write this, either. Also, the title was never a placeholder. This short has no real title; only a false one.
05/18/2005 Mr. Pony: :'(
06/29/2005 Mr. Joshua (5): I like this Whitaker guy.