That was another thing about becoming hungrier – his smell increased in sensitivity as his body strained for sustenance. Unfortunately, in its zeal, it didn’t come with an auto-filter. Handy smelled everything in greater detail. Everything. It was bad in Caulkinsborough, but this… this was unbearable. If there was some hapless bastard out there with a nick or a cut, he couldn’t tell, his olfactory faculties would go a tad berserk to such a terrible degree that he was severely tempted to punch his own face. It was like having a little tiny spastic kitten made of itchiness freaking out on a bad acid trip and bundled in wall insulation jammed at the back of your nose where you couldn’t scratch it.