Seanie's hair is eating his head.
I really, really don't care for Seanie's house. It reeks of dog - little surprise, seeing as his family has four of them, with a fifth one on the way next month. He insists that it doesn't smell at all, but of course he would be used to it after living with the smell for years, and he doesn't realize just how strong it is. That odor hangs heavy in the air, musty and filthy, like rotted grass, dirty teeth, halitosis, and wet fur rolled into one persistant wave after another of stench wafting up to my nose. It always makes me feel at least a little nauseous, and the fact that Seanie's always denying the problem and claiming it doesn't exist does not help.