The joke may be too obscure.
Well, you know, ignoring a problem never makes it better. Especially when a by-product of the problem is a pile of rotting rats.
Although ‘pile’ was the wrong word: the poor things had formed a rough circle before they died, and at least it didn’t look like they had suffered much. Their limbs were untwisted and there were no remains of froth or blood. If it weren’t for the smell, you might even think they were slipping.
“Hrm,” mused Marsh. “Where are the flies? — Do not say a word, Sunshine!”
I restrained my smirk with some difficulty. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Horace. But you are right. There should be flies. Flies, gnats, lice… maybe even a worm or two. But nothing is alive in this chamber, save us.”
I closed my eyes, to see how far this effect extended — then snapped them open, instantly. “Back the way we came, and stay together! Something noticed my presence, and it is… very large.”