Day 18


The stinkymate hath returned.

Not on his own, however. I had no option but to bribe him with beer.

The stinkymate says:
"Sorry I haven't been around. I've been quite sick. I had a bacterial infection in my stomach, which is entirely unrelated to the disappearance of the hotdogs."

I told him it was ok, gave him a reassuring pat on the back, and we rolled up our sleeves and got right to work.


hi-res

The stinkymate began a brutal battery of tests, most of them somehow involving poking the meat repeatedly with a stick.

Findings were inconclusive.


hi-res

We were upwind of the plate the entire time, which enabled me to lay flat on the ground and take a perspective shot of the meat.

You can see the styrofoam moving steadily farther from the organic mush in a sort of Pangaea/continental drift fashion, and that the meat really has no altitude whatsoever.

Brack writes:
"The grey mush isn't meat anymore, it's very very likely to be just maggot excrement."

Great.
I get told that -after- my face is right next to it.