They were lurking in my fridge all along.
The real Crown Jewel of Ick, though, was a slow-cooker dish of... I have no idea what. apis_mellifera informs me that it was originally a slow-cooked chicken dish, but there was absolutely no way to recognize it as such. This is probably due to the fact that she also informed me that it had remained in the dish for more than six months.
I knew what I was up against, cleaning out the fridge today. I saw it lurking there...waiting... like a hidden booby-trap that some sick biogeneticist would create. It was going to be me versus the Pot of Pestilence, and only one of us would be walking away.
I tried to prepare myself. I was crafty-- I used the old coroner's trick of rimming my nostrils with a double heapin' helping of Vicks VapoRub to mask any environmental odors. I faced down the dish. My heart pounded. Cold sweat trickled down the back of my neck. And as I reached out for the dishcover, I thought I heard a voice yelling faintly "Don't look at it, Marion!"
It is...difficult to describe what happened next. No, I take that back. It is very easy to describe what happened next: It was pure suck. The stench of the microbial Calcutta that the contents of the dish had been transformed into scoffed at the VapoRub around my nostrils. (SCOFFED, I tell you!) This was no ordinary food-gone-bad. This... this was something that God would have visited upon Pharoh. If I'd walked into a gas-station bathroom that hadn't been cleaned since Elvis was still alive, right after the Grim Reaper had just used it after he'd had an all-you-can-eat chili and vindaloo buffet--THAT, my friends, would have been like Chanel Number Five compared to what I tipped into the trash.
To sum up: It was not fun.
So I'm going to sit over here now and just be emotionally scarred kthxbai.