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The Windows
Chapter 7
Pete drove up to Ken Larson's general store, and parked in front. When he entered the store, there was such a horrendous odor that a female customer shrieked. Ken ran up to Pete and pulled him outside.
"You can't come in here again until you shower. You smell like a septic tank."
"You're crazy," Pete said, "I don't smell a thing."
"Well, lucky for you. Do you have a shopping list?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, give it to me, and I'll bring your order outside." Pete was not about to argue. He just wanted to get his provisions and return to the cottage so he could wash the windows. He ran to his car and opened the trunk. He got everything ready for a quick getaway.
He was leaning against his car, when suddenly, he got a migraine headache. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Fortunately, it passed quickly, but as soon as he got his senses back, he was beset with a terrible odor. It smelled like a combination of urine, feces, and body sweat. He almost gagged. He looked around to determine where the odor was coming from, and then he realized that he was the source of it all.
"I gotta get home and shower," he thought. Forgetting his provisions, he jumped in the car, and almost barfed. The car smelled worse than he did. He opened all the windows and the T Top and headed home.
When he got there, he couldn't see his house. "I must be so crazed," he thought, "that I forgot where I live." He looked around trying to determine where he was, and he saw two men running toward him. One of the men was a stranger, but the other was Coop. Pete started to wail. He couldn't let his beloved husband anywhere near him, until he had a chance to clean up. He would have felt even worse, if he had glanced in a mirror and seen what he looked like.
About the same time as Pete was agonizing about his odor, Jim Watkins was seated in the corner of the recreation center at The Miracle of Hope Convalescent Home. As usual he was staring into space. He was definitely comatose. Suddenly, he got a headache to end all headaches. He started to shriek.
Gus ran over to see what was wrong. He grabbed Jim by his shoulders. And suddenly Jim started to yell, "Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here? Please call my brother to come and get me."
Gus pulled out his cell phone and called Dr. Goodman instead.
Coop approached Pete cautiously. He was afraid of how he would act when he saw him. He needn't have worried. Pete smelled so bad, he couldn't get near him. Eric was right behind Coop.
"Good God," he yelled. "What can we do?"
Pete was crying uncontrollably.
"I have an idea," Eric said. "I always keep a couple of extra outfits in the trunk of my car. This way, if I get lucky, and mess myself up, I can change clothes. Let's get him out of that puke he's wearing."
"I don't think it will make any difference."
`It might help some, at least enough so you can drive him home and clean him up. I'll follow you home, and help you."
"Eric," Coop sobbed. "I don't know what I would have done without you."
"I know you told me not to ask questions, but maybe someday you'll trust me enough to tell me what happened here."
"I will, Buddy. I swear, even if you won't believe me."
"After what I've seen today, I'll believe you. Now, let's get going."
"Please, Coop, take me home," Pete wailed.
When Coop got into the car, he almost fainted from the smell. It was going to take all his will power to make the two-hour trip home. If he hit Friday evening rush hour traffic, it could take longer. "Well," he thought, "get your ass in gear. You've got your husband back, and that should give you lots of incentive."
The rush of fresh air coming into the car, along with Pete's new clothes did help a lot. Eric followed Coop into the underground parking garage in his building, and Coop showed him to a guest space. Together they got the crying Pete out of the car. Coop closed the windows and the T Top in an attempt to contain the odor.
They didn't want to run into anybody in the elevator, so they took the stairs up four flights. Coop was never so glad to see his home. He led Pete into the bathroom, and stripped him. He and Eric stripped also. Three men in the shower was a tight fit, but they managed.
It took them almost a half hour of back and forth washing and rinsing to thoroughly shampoo Pete's hair and beard. His body was easier. They both made sure that his cock and asshole smelled clean and antiseptic before they took him out of the shower and dried him off. Pete kept crying and wasn't much help to them.
Coop lent Eric a fresh outfit, and all three of them dressed in fresh clothing. "I'm going to throw what we've been wearing into the dumpster if you don't mind," Coop told Eric.
"I don't mind at all."
"Our barber is right around the corner. Would you help me get him there?"
"Of course. I'm not leaving you until I'm sure you can both take care of yourselves."
"Make him look like his old self," Coop instructed the barber.
"I'll cut his hair stylishly, but I suggest that he keep his beard; nicely trimmed, of course. Beards are quite popular these days for men of all ages."
"I appreciate what you're saying, but I want him to look like his old self again. Shave it all off, please."
While the barber was cutting Pete's hair, he asked what happened. Coop didn't know what to say, so Eric said, "He volunteered for a medical research project. It was all part of the research."
The barber seemed satisfied. When he was done, Eric looked at Pete, and whistled. "Who woulda thunk?" he asked," you're gorgeous."
He looked at Coop and said, "You two need to make up for lost time. I'll give you the weekend, but do you think we could do a three way sometime?"
"I owe you big time," Coop said, "and Pete owes me more. It'll happen. I'll make it happen."
By now Pete had stopped crying, and he was operating on his own. The three men walked back to their building, and Pete and Coop said goodbye to Eric in the parking garage.
When they got upstairs, using the elevator this time, they fell into each other's arms. Now it was Coop's turn to sob uncontrollably.
"Coop darling," Pete said. "The last thing I remember is taking a ride up state. What happened?"
"I swear I'll tell you, but not tonight. Tonight, and all weekend, we're going to make love. We're going to suck and fuck each other and never come up for air. How does that sound?'
"It sounds like you won't get an argument from me."
"Okay. We're fresh showered, so let's get right to it," Coop said, as he pushed Pete into the bedroom.
The End
Author's Note: If you've read this far, you may have figured out that this story is an homage to Stephen King. He's my favorite author, and in my opinion the best story teller who ever lived. I hope he will forgive me for being so amateurish and inept. I tried.