First Bath In 39 Years

Several years ago, I took a bath and my stench solidified in the tub. At first, it congealed into a thick, rubbery goo. I was running late, so I just left it alone. When I returned, it had gone downstairs to make a sandwich and watch a movie. By that time, he had hardened and had a crusty, scabby exterior. There was a moment of awkward silence that broke when he offered me some cheese puffs. He said his name was Hubert and he thanked me for not washing him down the drain. In return for my kindness, he said that he would try to allow me to survive after he took over the world. 
 
I know what you're thinking. What kind of name is Hubert? I don't know where he got that idea. Anyway, Hubert dumped the rest of the cheese puffs down his gullet and licked the inside of the bag. I hate it when other people get to do that. He wiped his mouth and headed for the door, shaking the house with every step. He grabbed my coat from a closet and tried on my hat. "When society collapses," he intoned. " Stay out of my way." He threw the door open and lurched outside. I watched him stroll down the street past a park. Children fell out of trees as he passed, clutching their noses.
 
I heard a few years ago that Hubert had settled down into a mid-level management position at the IRS. Civilization should collapse anytime now.