Farts

Listen, Sir... I heard you fart in the elevator.

And then I smelled it.

And then I heard you do it again.

Despite the fact that you seem to have lost all sphincter control and are probably as loose as a four year old's tooth down there, still I heard an audible pffffft followed quickly (but not quickly enough) by an involuntary clenching of the buttocks.

So you didn't need to glance over at me (as I surreptitiously swaddled my nose in the neck of my sweater) and say "geez, wonder what the guys on here before us had for lunch, eh?"

For one thing, as previously stated... I HEARD YOU, you egg-scented ass. Also, I was in the elevator for 3 floors before you got on, alone, and it sure as hell didn't smell then.

As for the question of what you had for lunch, my guess is shit, because that is the only thing I can think of that when digested may conceivably smell WORSE than shit.

Merde.

I thought I was going to suffocate.To make matters worse, you skipped off a floor below mine, leaving me to exit the elevator in a fog of shame as my senior coworkers were entering. Later I heard an ambulance siren and seriously wondered if one of them perished in your home made gas chamber. Doubtless I would have gotten the blame.

My only point is this; why not just own up to it? We both knew it was you. And hey, everyone farts... (though not everyone shits their pants when they do, as I am wont to think you did). But farting, that's a part of life.

So next time, Mister Colon-Blower, do your fellow elevator riders a favor and either zip off the lift when your anus starts to tingle, or tell the rest of us to.