I smelleth oh thee rotten one

The pungent musky smell of the Hamiltonian has awoken from its winter slumber.  It haunts my nostrils as it invades the interior of the bus.  Every breathe slowly breaks down the peace between my stomach and its contents.  I feel nauseated!   The once chewed and partially digested food has mutated into some evil creature as it claws its way up my esophagus and into my mouth.  The bell rings, and Mr. Stinky gets up.  I open the doors with the last bit of life that is in me.  The wind blows clean fresh air against my face.  I close my eyes and take a deep breath!  I have once again eluded death but for how long can I fight this battle of olfactory sensation?  For how long?