I am the manager of a small apartment complex in the downtown area of
irrelevant city. I have seen a lot of messed up stuff over the last
three years, like one of those "cat ladies" you only hear about in
folk lore. She died and they had to have animal control take away like
30 cats. I swear to god I had no idea she had that many, I thought she
had like maybe two or three. Anyway, last summer I had another tenant
who was even more fucked in the head. I can only tell you my half of
this story, which I assure you is fucked up enough as it is.

So I get a call while I'm at a bar late Friday night from one of my
tenants. Apparently they were alarmed at a "decaying odor" emanating
from the unit next to theirs. I knew the guy living in it, he was
really old so my first thought is the guy had died or something and
the smell was his body (morbid, I know...). I was too drunk to drive
so I had a friend give me a ride back to my place. I asked my friend
if he wanted to come with me to check on the guy and he basically told
me to fuck off and that he didn't want to see a dead body. I thought
"Who doesn't want to see a dead body?" ... I guess he wasn't as drunk
as I was. I told him to wait in the car for a few minutes, which he
agreed to. Looking back on it, I really should have made him come with
me. So I go up to the guys door and knock a few times, yell "Mr.
Sherman are you okay? I'm coming in to check on you" (That's not his
real name obviously). Of course, I get no response so I unlock his
door and head on in.

The smell hit my sinuses like a brick in the face. I've gutted Moose
before so I know a bad smell when I smell it. This was... well it was
about the same smell really. That is to say, it smelled more than
enough for me to believe there was a dead body somewhere in there.
Still, I had to make sure before I called the police. I didn't want to
call them in on a week old pot roast, or because the refrigerator was
left open or something. So I went about exploring the apartment. I
knew the layout already (most of the units are the same), so I began
to search the apartment room by room whilst holding my t-shirt over my
face to keep myself from gagging. The living room (the first room you
see when you enter) was surprisingly neat and clean. There were a
bunch of books on the coffee table lined up in a neat stack, and the
telephone was on the cabinet by the wall where it should be. Then I
looked at the corner and reflexively let out a "SHIT!" and backed up.
There was a dog staring at me. It looked like a little black terrier,
the "Scotty" kind. It wasn't growling or anything so I thought he was
just scared, then started laughing at myself for being afraid of it.
It still wasn't moving. I was a little creeped out by how much time
had passed and it still wasn't moving. I though "Naw, couldn't be...",
but sure enough, it was stuffed. The dude had a stuffed Scottish
terrier in his living room. Weird. I was still in a good mood at this
point, had to chuckle to myself over getting afraid of a stuffed dog.
I turned to my left and walked into the kitchen/kitchenette.
The kitchen was a little bit messy; I could tell someone actually used
this part of the apartment. There were just a couple knives in the
sink, and the counter had some crumbs on it and stuff. I opened the
refrigerator up, hoping to god that was where the smell was coming
from. Nope, the refrigerator was completely empty. It looked like the
guy hardly even used the apartment; there were almost no personal
belongings in the living room or kitchen except for a couple plates
(that came with the place), and the weird ass stuffed dog in the
living room. So I went back into the living room and HOLY SHIT THE DOG
HAD MOVED. Actually, it didn't... there was a second dog behind the
couch that I hadn't noticed the first time. Still, it almost gave me a
heart attack. This weirdo guy had two stuffed dogs in his living room
both watching in different directions. The second dog was not a
terrier by the way, it was a little shitzu or some long haired little
foofoo dog I don't know what they're all called. Needless to say, I
was WTF-ing pretty hard at this point and my heart was beating so fast
I could hear it in my ears.


Anyway I worked myself up a bit and went down the hallway and checked
a closet. Nope, empty. The smell was definitely getting stronger now.
Next up was the first bedroom. The smell wasn't so strong in there so
I didn't think I was going to find anything. (I should probably point
out by now that I had turned on all the lights in the place. I wasn't
retarded going around with a flashlight or something. The neighborhood
is not so good around here so I'm always on guard for people jumping
out and attacking me at night). So I flick on the light in the
bedroom, and it's pretty fucked up. The mattress had been taken off of
the bed, and the sheets were all torn up. There were a shit load of
holes and scratches in the wall, which were at chest level so they
were most likely from punching and/or scraping with a knife or
something. Most disturbingly, there was a shit load of red stains on
the carpet. They looked a lot like wine stains, (remember, I was
drunk) so blood was not the first thing to pop in my mind (It actually
was blood. I was an idiot). All I remember thinking at this point is
"Forget about the deposit, this guy is going to get charged out the
ass". The whole experience of being in this apartment was starting to
get at me though. Every room I went into I was half expecting to find
a dead body so I just wanted to find the source of that smell then get
the fuck out of there. So I went into the bathroom and there was a fur
carpet in there. Except it wasn't a carpet, it was like 20 different
little furs all laid out on the floor. They were mostly brown and
black, but there were a couple white ones. I couldn't tell if they
smelled bad, but they were definitely not the main source.
I went down the hall to the second bedroom, timidly muttering stuff
like "Mr. Sherman, are you in here?". I started out in a good mood but
after getting startled that hard twice in a row my adrenaline was
going. Shit felt like a horror movie. Anyway, I went into the bedroom
and sure enough, there was a dead body. He was lying face down on his
bed with his knees on the floor and his pants off, ass bare and
pointed straight at the doorway (at me). Anyway, I got the fuck out at
that point and told my friend in the car what I saw. Of course, he
didn't believe me until the police I called showed up.


I never got to see the worst part, one of the cops told me about it.
Apparently this dude was a veterinarian and had been taking home all
the dead bodies of animals he'd put down. He had made a fetish of
skinning them all and just throwing the skinned bodies into the tub in
the second bathroom. I guess the first bathroom was too good for that
so that's where he kept the furs. The worst of the worst part is that
the guy died from a heart attack while jerking it with the intestines
of one of the animals. Apparently he had made a fetish of using their
guts as jerk off sleeves and just let them pile up in the bath tub
after he was done with them. In the end, the deposit ($500) didn't
begin to cover the damage to the apartment, let alone the emotional
damage he did to the apartment manager (me).


Yup, I hate my job.

Barry Jive wrote:is that from reddit? i stopped reading a few sentences in because it seemed familiar