Who ya gonna call?

There is this presence in the house. I cannot quite put my finger on it, but sometimes I do sense it. The atmosphere just changes drastically, all of the sudden. If I have visitors, they don't notice it themselves. I'm not sure, should I worry, ignore or do something about it...

And it leaves behind the most unpleasant smell known to man. It’s almost as if someone, somewhere, released gas around the house. Something’s wrong, I can feel it. Who is this mysterious man or creature? “You smell that?” “Smell what? I don’t smell anything.”

“Smell popcorn?” “Yuck! Did you fart?” Mother burst in the room unannounced, slamming the door loudly. “Why does somebody not know how to flush the toilet after they’ve had their shet?” “Wasn’t me!” “Well it was fokin one a yas!” She took a deep breath, and then… “Disgustang!”

Mother, we have no running water. There is no way to flush. I don’t know what to do. It is truly unhygienic, mother. Disgustang TO THE MAX!

With a glint in her eye she produced a single red boxing glove, seemingly from nowhere and slid it over her hand. Without pausing she leant over and proceeded to violently punch the effluence down the pan splashing her face and the walls with the contaminated water without regret

"Wait," bubbled the effluence. It rippled in pain, then simmered until a letter drifted to its surface. She removed her boxing glove & took the envelope. "What's this?" she asked. The effluence gurgled, "You've been served," then expired, its final court-appointed mission over.