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Answer for the clue "Like spoiled butter ", 6 letters:
rancid

Alternative clues for the word rancid

Word definitions for rancid in dictionaries

Wikipedia Word definitions in Wikipedia
Rancid is the eponymously titled debut studio album by the American punk rock band Rancid . It was released on May 10, 1993, through Epitaph Records . It is the only album not to feature Lars Frederiksen on guitar, who joined while the band was touring ...

Usage examples of rancid.

It smelled greasy and evil, like rancid andouille sausage that had been left on the grill too long.

Gentle Reader, The Word will leap on you with leopard man iron claws, it will cut off fingers and toes like an opportunist land crab, it will hang you and catch your jissom like a scrutable dog, it will coil round your thighs like a bushmaster and inject a shot glass of rancid ectoplasm.

A fur-capped Hyrkanian stepped up to the table, the rancid odor of his lank, greased hair overpowering the smells of the tavern.

More or less of a white yellow color like rancid jism and stringy you know.

A thickness, rancid and cloying, clogged his nostrils and threat-ened to fill his throat with mephitic glue.

They looked clean, and the bonus tea vases, the rancid, gilt-framed oleographs, two toilet tidies used as ornaments, and the fact that the chest of drawers had been crowded out of the bedroom into the sitting-room, simply appealed to his sense of humour.

It had tried to take the form of an old gentleman, but it was covered in rancid pustules and hideous deformities, with bent back and irregular gait.

Children smelled insipid, men urinous, all sour sweat and cheese, women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish.

I hated the sour, rancid flesh taste and smell of the unfermented juice of the maguey, but it would ward off starvation.

Magla and Salita out for the morning, Romanda had the patched brown tent to herself, a blessed opportunity to read, though the two mismatched brass lamps on the small table gave off a faint yet nose-wrinkling scent of rancid oil.

CHAPTER 23 Call to a Sitting W ith Magla and Salita out for the morning, Romanda had the patched brown tent to herself, a blessed opportunity to read, though the two mismatched brass lamps on the small table gave off a faint yet nose-wrinkling scent of rancid oil.

It was nearly empty, little more than a roadside farmhouse with boarding rooms in what had once been a hay-loft, and a surly farmer and his sickly wife who served up rancid scrumpy and pie and little in the way of conversation.

She lay for a while, her face still buried in the fur of the bedcover, too stiff and dazed to move, feeling its rancid hair scratchy against her mouth and nose, then at last she managed to raise herselfa little and try to turn over.

It was in a fancy high-rise near Battery Park City, in the southwest corner of Manhattan, not far from Chinatown but away from its crowded streets, the smells of seafood, the stink of rancid oil from the tourist restaurants.

The smell of rotting, multiple death was unforgettable, a rancid bile like sour milk and flyblown meat.