No, nothing about VMaxes. It's a story about Mr. Pavlovski, a resident in a Chicago apartment building. It's told by a fellow who was early in his working years, and an experience he had while working in Chicago. Having been on some incidents similar to this one, it's very plausible. He tells the story superbly, but just stop right here if you're easily-disposed to an upset stomach.
A few years ago as a young lad I did a few little side jobs on a 60 ish unit apartment building in Chicago. This building was built mid 20's and had long halls 5 stories and 14 units on each floor.
The building was owned by a younger fella, we can call him John. John was the kind of guy who had been touched more than just lightly by what we call the reefer madness. When he got all excited he would get all to holding his breath and not exhale, the more excited he got the more he would hold his breath, so he would talk without any air coming out. He would turn some interesting colors too.
I had been working in this old building for about 2 years here and there when ever a few bucks came along and John needed something changed, His gramps had owned the place and really sort of ran the old mine down and the building needed a lot of love.
The tenants in this place were a bunch of types from an old neighborhood, each one different than the next and each, in their own way, just as looney as could be imagined.
A few days before thanksgiving John gives me a call to switch out some faucets on the fourth floor, we go up the staircase and pass by unit 303, sure does stink a bit on this floor John I say. Oh that's Mr. Pavlovski, he's a non bather. OK John, he sure does stink. And John and I go about the chores of the day.
There and abouts the middle of December I go back to do some more things. I walk into the building and geez I get a wiff of this Pavlovski almost immediately. I tell John that he sure is gettin riper, John lives there and says he don't notice it so much and laughs, you'll get used to it he says. Well John smokes so much grass that I don't doubt that he is smell disoriented. Oh well, hey I don't live here.
Shortly after Christmas I am back at this old building, the smell is still there but not quite as bad as the last time, still bad but different.
John has a whole list of crap for us to do, he has his set of giant keys to get into any unit he needs to. So we are strolling down the hall and John says, hang on, I have to check Pavlovski's unit, the lady down stairs says she has a drip coming down from the ceiling. Is he home I ask, no He works during the day John says. Gee John, he sure does stink for a feller that is not even at home.
Yeah he says He must really smell F'n great in person.
So John fumbles with the locks and I am standing right behind him, we knock and he says good he's not home.
John gets that last lock open and pops the door open and steps inside...............................
SWEET FANCY MOSES!!!!!!
You have to understand that it stank like fierce bad..once the door was opened now you were so overwhelmed that a taste came to fore...
Add to this a sudden burst of flies........
I thank all I ever can that John saw what he did and burst back.out that door depriving me the full visual account for myself.
John had a look on his face as if he had just seen El Diablo in the flesh.
Remember how this guy had the reefer madness speech thing going on, well this poor beestard was sucking air and speaking, I thought he was going to pop.
Holy crap finally came out, I think he's dead, he says,........and he was lookin at me. He's really a dark green color.
Well the junior mathematician, not, in me is addin and subtractin and oy oy.
This old boy has been dead for prolly 6 weeks John.
So we call the authorities.
John and I escape to a safe from the smell place out front of the building. Poor John is shell shocked or I would have gotten the hell out of there, and we both have this dead animal sour sickly rotten milk smell to us.
First to the scene is a police officer. He says want to show me where this is, John says hell no I'm not going up there again, a quick look at me shaking no and the cop says how will I find him?
Step in the door and follow your nose I tell him.
About a minute later the cop rushes out the door. Jeez the cop says, no body told me there was a dead guy. You didn't figure out he was dead on the way up I say?
Just then an ambulance arrives, 2 young EMT 's a guy and a gal hop out all excited, where is he the gal yells upstairs the cop says. They go racing up as fast as they can. I ask the cop, Aren't you going to tell them? The cop says, Hey maybe they can save him.
Wheezing and sucking his breath John manages to say " That would be really fucking frightening"
About a minute later we hear these 2 EMT's falling down the stairs out of the front door. You could tell that they had both been vomiting and running.
They go into the ambulance and make a call, they won't even talk to the cop.
A few more cops come along, a young new cop is among them,he does not know the situation. The first cop asks him if he knows CPR, yeah he says, well get your ass up there and be a hero he says, Away the young cop goes and a few minutes later he too has that look of just been puking on his face.
Along comes a unit from the flying squad. These guys are the special forces of the fire department, they have seen it all. About 5 of these guys go up there all geared up. All of a sudden we hear glass crashing and we move to the side to look up at the building to see the windows on the unit getting busted with axes. A couple of flying squad guys vomiting their brains out.
A call comes down to the truck, We need more bags. How many? Four the guy says. John looks at me in horror. Who's cleaning that up? he squeezes out.
The flying squad guys bring down four bags of Mr. Pavlovski. How big was this guy John? About 450 pounds he squeals. I just sort of rub my forehead a bit.
Away he goes in the back of a Paddy wagon on his way to the morgue. Good bye Mr. Pavlovski. I say a little prayer thing.
A clean up crew came to remove the worst of the result of the passing of our dear Mr. Pavlovski. The only real dilema was the odor. Bad bad.
The odor and the image of Mr. Pavlovski burned into the oak floor.
There he is hands over his head, there are his legs too........That's not good.
John burned coffee for about 6 weeks to kill the smell of the man.
He had the floors redone and sealed.
3 days after he did the floors the image of Mr.Pavlovski slowly returned to the floor..........That's not good.
So the floor guy came along with a super industrial coating to place over the floor. 2 weeks and the image is still not showing. Great get it rented.
About a month later I go to the unit of Mr. Pavlovski. A young single mom is renting it. I am supposed to fix her faucet. I walk across the floor and then I pause. I don't have to study very hard...for there is surely the image of Mr. Pavlovski returning to us. The young woman laughs. She says. My son thinks that's the image of a dead guy in the floor. She laughs some more. Looking at me she seems to become nervous. I suppose I could not hide the absolute look of horror present upon my face.
Oh WTF? she says and she calls John.
I leave. What can I do?
John rips out the floor. This will get rid of him he says weezing. He carpets the unit. Done he yells out of my life. If only I could get the image out of my eyes of him looking at me.
John is moving up the ladder in the substance abuse arena I determine, sadly.
So all is good.
I go into unit 203 one day and casually glance up at the ceiling in Mrs. Shutzmeyers unit.
It cannot be.
I get my bearings as to where this is.
It is............That's not good...........
While the names have been changed to protect the innocent.......
This tale is absolutely true.
A few years ago as a young lad I did a few little side jobs on a 60 ish unit apartment building in Chicago. This building was built mid 20's and had long halls 5 stories and 14 units on each floor.
The building was owned by a younger fella, we can call him John. John was the kind of guy who had been touched more than just lightly by what we call the reefer madness. When he got all excited he would get all to holding his breath and not exhale, the more excited he got the more he would hold his breath, so he would talk without any air coming out. He would turn some interesting colors too.
I had been working in this old building for about 2 years here and there when ever a few bucks came along and John needed something changed, His gramps had owned the place and really sort of ran the old mine down and the building needed a lot of love.
The tenants in this place were a bunch of types from an old neighborhood, each one different than the next and each, in their own way, just as looney as could be imagined.
A few days before thanksgiving John gives me a call to switch out some faucets on the fourth floor, we go up the staircase and pass by unit 303, sure does stink a bit on this floor John I say. Oh that's Mr. Pavlovski, he's a non bather. OK John, he sure does stink. And John and I go about the chores of the day.
There and abouts the middle of December I go back to do some more things. I walk into the building and geez I get a wiff of this Pavlovski almost immediately. I tell John that he sure is gettin riper, John lives there and says he don't notice it so much and laughs, you'll get used to it he says. Well John smokes so much grass that I don't doubt that he is smell disoriented. Oh well, hey I don't live here.
Shortly after Christmas I am back at this old building, the smell is still there but not quite as bad as the last time, still bad but different.
John has a whole list of crap for us to do, he has his set of giant keys to get into any unit he needs to. So we are strolling down the hall and John says, hang on, I have to check Pavlovski's unit, the lady down stairs says she has a drip coming down from the ceiling. Is he home I ask, no He works during the day John says. Gee John, he sure does stink for a feller that is not even at home.
Yeah he says He must really smell F'n great in person.
So John fumbles with the locks and I am standing right behind him, we knock and he says good he's not home.
John gets that last lock open and pops the door open and steps inside...............................
SWEET FANCY MOSES!!!!!!
You have to understand that it stank like fierce bad..once the door was opened now you were so overwhelmed that a taste came to fore...
Add to this a sudden burst of flies........
I thank all I ever can that John saw what he did and burst back.out that door depriving me the full visual account for myself.
John had a look on his face as if he had just seen El Diablo in the flesh.
Remember how this guy had the reefer madness speech thing going on, well this poor beestard was sucking air and speaking, I thought he was going to pop.
Holy crap finally came out, I think he's dead, he says,........and he was lookin at me. He's really a dark green color.
Well the junior mathematician, not, in me is addin and subtractin and oy oy.
This old boy has been dead for prolly 6 weeks John.
So we call the authorities.
John and I escape to a safe from the smell place out front of the building. Poor John is shell shocked or I would have gotten the hell out of there, and we both have this dead animal sour sickly rotten milk smell to us.
First to the scene is a police officer. He says want to show me where this is, John says hell no I'm not going up there again, a quick look at me shaking no and the cop says how will I find him?
Step in the door and follow your nose I tell him.
About a minute later the cop rushes out the door. Jeez the cop says, no body told me there was a dead guy. You didn't figure out he was dead on the way up I say?
Just then an ambulance arrives, 2 young EMT 's a guy and a gal hop out all excited, where is he the gal yells upstairs the cop says. They go racing up as fast as they can. I ask the cop, Aren't you going to tell them? The cop says, Hey maybe they can save him.
Wheezing and sucking his breath John manages to say " That would be really fucking frightening"
About a minute later we hear these 2 EMT's falling down the stairs out of the front door. You could tell that they had both been vomiting and running.
They go into the ambulance and make a call, they won't even talk to the cop.
A few more cops come along, a young new cop is among them,he does not know the situation. The first cop asks him if he knows CPR, yeah he says, well get your ass up there and be a hero he says, Away the young cop goes and a few minutes later he too has that look of just been puking on his face.
Along comes a unit from the flying squad. These guys are the special forces of the fire department, they have seen it all. About 5 of these guys go up there all geared up. All of a sudden we hear glass crashing and we move to the side to look up at the building to see the windows on the unit getting busted with axes. A couple of flying squad guys vomiting their brains out.
A call comes down to the truck, We need more bags. How many? Four the guy says. John looks at me in horror. Who's cleaning that up? he squeezes out.
The flying squad guys bring down four bags of Mr. Pavlovski. How big was this guy John? About 450 pounds he squeals. I just sort of rub my forehead a bit.
Away he goes in the back of a Paddy wagon on his way to the morgue. Good bye Mr. Pavlovski. I say a little prayer thing.
A clean up crew came to remove the worst of the result of the passing of our dear Mr. Pavlovski. The only real dilema was the odor. Bad bad.
The odor and the image of Mr. Pavlovski burned into the oak floor.
There he is hands over his head, there are his legs too........That's not good.
John burned coffee for about 6 weeks to kill the smell of the man.
He had the floors redone and sealed.
3 days after he did the floors the image of Mr.Pavlovski slowly returned to the floor..........That's not good.
So the floor guy came along with a super industrial coating to place over the floor. 2 weeks and the image is still not showing. Great get it rented.
About a month later I go to the unit of Mr. Pavlovski. A young single mom is renting it. I am supposed to fix her faucet. I walk across the floor and then I pause. I don't have to study very hard...for there is surely the image of Mr. Pavlovski returning to us. The young woman laughs. She says. My son thinks that's the image of a dead guy in the floor. She laughs some more. Looking at me she seems to become nervous. I suppose I could not hide the absolute look of horror present upon my face.
Oh WTF? she says and she calls John.
I leave. What can I do?
John rips out the floor. This will get rid of him he says weezing. He carpets the unit. Done he yells out of my life. If only I could get the image out of my eyes of him looking at me.
John is moving up the ladder in the substance abuse arena I determine, sadly.
So all is good.
I go into unit 203 one day and casually glance up at the ceiling in Mrs. Shutzmeyers unit.
It cannot be.
I get my bearings as to where this is.
It is............That's not good...........
While the names have been changed to protect the innocent.......
This tale is absolutely true.
