did i ever tell you the one...

every night, at approximately the same time, he stepped outside to take a piss on his own front lawn. the neighbors complained. they said they could smell the stench all up and down the street. it was especially bad, they said, in the summertime, when the piss had time to sour in the hot sun all day, taking on a new stench, more deadly, they said, than carbon monoxide and more potent than the most pungent of cheap filling-station knock-off perfumes, imitation sleaze at a quarter-a-squirt. no one on the whole street knew his real name. though, they had a wide variety of names for him. no one had ever had any sort of interaction with him, not even a simple hello. he stayed inside all day, except for that one designated point in the evening when he walked outside to relieve himself.
when he died, the stench lingered. it lingered for days and days. you can still smell it, they say, on especially hot days in the summertime, when the sun is out and playing tricks like deja vu on the easily amused.