it was rotting before his very eyes and the smell of it was what he had smelled in christine before , what leigh had smelled , only it was worse now , it was the high , gassy , gagging smell of high-speed decay , the smell of his own death , and arnie began to whine as little richard came on the radio singing 'tutti frutti , ' and now the thing 's hair was failing out in gossamer white drifts and its collarbones poked through the shiny , stretched skin above the t-shirt 's sagging round collar , they poked through like grotesque white pencils .