Murphy’s Law of Passing Gas
My coworker Ethan enjoys barging into my office to chat about stupid things like work. Usually the barging in is a minor annoyance, but today he came in just as I passed gas. Actually, “passed gas” is too polite of a term for it. This wasn’t gas. It was a fart. One of those noxious ones that makes your eyes water and has you scheduling an appointment with the doctor to make sure your bowels are working properly.
The annoy thing is I usually don’t pass gas in my office for the very reason that someone might walk in. If the urge strikes, I leave our suite of offices and relieve myself in front of the telemarketers’ suite. Today, I was feeling lazy and bold, especially since I usually don’t get visitors in my office. On a given week, one person might stop by. But of course, I’d forgotten about Murphy’s Law.
I didn’t know what to do about Ethan. Should I tell him I’d just farted? Were we close enough for me to say that? Or should I take a chance and say nothing. I mean, no one wants to be known as a farter, right? But then again, if everyone poos, don’t they also fart? Plus, if I said something, it’d be proof that I was a human and not some android who’d killed the real me and taken his place.
While I was busy ponderfretting, Ethan made the decision for me by sitting down and going into a monologue before I could say anything about the fart. He was deeply engaged, so much so that I couldn’t find a good time to interject that he should be cautious of noxious odors. Then too much time passed for me to say anything so I just kept my mouth shut.
I forget what Ethan was talking about. Some complicated work thing. All I heard was “blah blah blah.” My hearing was affected by the awful stench. I scanned Ethan’s face for any signs of fart-smelling. The wiggle of a nose or a twitch of the eyebrow. Nothing. He just kept talking and talking, and I just kept nodding my head. Mercifully, he left after about ten minutes.
When Ethan was gone, I stood up to close the door and was assaulted by another wave of odor. Apparently, most of the fart had been trapped between my buttocks and the chair. Now free from its fleshy prison, it swirled around the room and attempted to escape my office. I ran over and closed the door before it could wreak havoc in the hallway.
With the fart trapped in my office, the odor was so bad I grew faint and had to lie down on my couch. I shut my eyes and waited for the fart to lose its power and dissipate. In the meantime, I cursed myself for breaking my own rules. Never again would another fart see the inside of my office!
The only bright spot was Ethan hadn’t smelled my fart. There’s no way any mortal could’ve gotten a whiff of that foul beast and not had any facial reaction. Although, that assumes Ethan is a mortal. He could be an android who killed the real Ethan and took his place. That could explain why he likes talking about work so much. That’s exactly the type of thing an android would think a real human would like to do.
