Your pen is moving at a ferocious pace, the paper in front of your is rapidly filling with the kind of handwriting that only a college student can read, when suddenly you feel that sickening gurgling deep in your bowls. You know what it is, but you ignore it and try to hold it in. Even as you labor to contain it you know you can’t. You glance to the side, that cute girl you like is sitting close to you, the friendly exchange student is scribbling away and the professor is expounding on something you should be paying attention to.
Then the foul beast that you have been trying to silence makes its existence known to the outside world as your stomach rumbles. Thoughts are racing through your head at a million miles an hour. “Oh god, I shouldn’t have eaten that bowl of beans last night! Can I let it out silently? Should I lean to the side and pretend to rest my head on my hand?” You hope it doesn’t smell as bad as you know it will. How can it not stink to high heaven, its been sitting there for who knows how long, brewing and festering, waiting for the opportune moment to erupt into the world and cause you the most embarrassment possible.
Then as if delivered from on high by Gabriel himself inspiration strikes! The chair! You can use the chair to contain the putrid stench of your rotten gastric concoction! “I’ll just slide my jacket off and cover my lap! It’s fool proof!” As you make you move you realize that the seat of the chair is made of mesh. All is lost, the point of no return has been passed, the door is too far away now so escape is impossible. Mere seconds are between you and your labor of love. You wish you were with your friends so you could just laugh it off and comment on the ripe bouquet.
Then the moment of truth arrives! Knock knock, here I come! You try to let it out slowly, but the moment you loosen the gates, the flood gushes out with a wet, juicy and distinctive sound that seems to last an eternity. The room goes silent, nobody makes a sound. You can feel your face go red and you look straight foreword not daring to look at anyone’s face. Then the phrase you were hoping wouldn’t cross anyone’s lips. “Who farted?” Your nose is working overtime analyzing the complex and most odious of anal gasses that is now wafting its way around the room.
You are forever doomed to be known as the guy who farted louder than a fat man who eats a diet consisting exclusively of refried bean and cabbage. The fall out is riotous and you try your best not to laugh, but you can’t suppress that grin spreading across your face as noses are covered and your classmates try to root out the culprit, luckily your crime goes unpunished and thankfully those around you keep their silence. Though that cute girl surely knows it was you….
Is there a moral to this tale? Not really. Is it entertaining? Absolutely. Perhaps you have had to live through this very scenario or you have been one of the lucky few. College will never be the same as you continually pass by your former classmates in the halls, knowing that they know it was you. The classroom ass blaster has struck again.
