I suppose the whole thing started around 4 AM, when I stopped off at Ox's house for some krullers and space-java and three solid hours of violent, frothing-at-the-mouth sex. After showering, I noticed that Ox's musky scent was still lying heavily upon my person. Since I rather enjoy that singular odor, further ablutions were out of the question. So the smell of Ox isn't to everyone's liking! It's an "acquired taste." (And so is the way Ox's taste.) So what? It's really only noticeable to folks when they're within five or six feet of me.
I decided I'd have to nip my office-mates' objections in the bud. As soon as I strolled into the agency, I cleared my throat, and called everyone to attention.
Me: I'd just like to say something to you about the way I smell...I stumbled over to my desk, past Storm Boy, who was laughing his ass off. He started to say something, but I growled "Shut up...!"under my breath, and he clammed back up. As I sat down in my chair, I could hear his muffled snickering.
Frigid Queen (interjecting): OH THANK GOD. I thought you were never going to bring that up.
Nightmare Boy (grinning): It's no big deal, 'bro! We're pretty used to it, by now.
Dentata Damsel (barely audible): It's nice of you to finally acknowledge it, though.
Me: Wait, what are we talking about--?
Rainbow Girl: Your odor. Don't worry, I warned everybody about it when we first started working here.
Frigid Queen: Yeah! You know. Your odor. It's like a really old corned beef sandwich, heavily impregnated with rocket ship exhaust, and maybe a touch of sewer gas? That smell.
Me: I don't--! Wait a minute, you're saying that I've always smelled bad?
Tusker: Oh, no, no... it ain't bad, exactly; it's just that you don't expect a human being to smell that way.
Nightmare Boy: But hey! If you can't help it, then who are we to judge?
Me: Um. Thank you.
I believe the way I feel right now can best be summed up by this panel from the Split-Man story in "Strange Adventures" #203 (August, 1967).