Uncle!

It may be my dad who is my only true sympathizer on this one. After all, he's the one who passed on the "bionic nose" gene to me-- the one that enables us to smell garlic on a person five feet away (when they ate it two days ago). It's a curse, I tell you! A curse!

Anyway.... I was giving an acquaintance of mine a ride home from an event we both attended this evening, and this person ripped one in the car shortly after we took off. And when I say "ripped one" I mean they didn't even mess around-- this cookie went straight for the gold. Please understand that I need to describe it in detail-- in order for you to truly understand the nightmare I lived through tonight.

My car could not have smelled worse if this person had gone ahead and moved their bowels right on the passenger seat. In fact, this was an actual worry of mine for several moments. The thought that my guest had actually pooped in my car was a very real fear for the many minutes that the stench lingered in-- no, clung to, hovered over, permeated the air. My dog could not have hoped to outdo this person's accomplishment even with performance-enhancing turkey. In fact, I have a few meaningful words about it that I'd like to share right now: sulfur, Campbell's tomato soup, rotten eggs, Limburger cheese and diaper genies. Take a moment to ponder those.

Meanwhile I was expected to keep up my end of the conversation. I think I deserve a hearty pat on the back for the effort I put forth. It's not easy to talk when you're trying your darnedest not to breathe. I tried to think of a sly way in which I could covertly open every single window in the whole van. "I so love the night air! Let's invite it into the car with us, shall we? Let us envelop ourselves in its refreshing properties!" just didn't seem natural, ya know?

And so...I suffered in silence. The kind of silence that only an unintentional fart in unfamiliar company can bring. I'm not sure if I wish my passenger had just copped to the offense so we could giggle about it and then move on, or if it was better that we both tried to pretend the overpowering reek had emanated from some other mysterious source-- like a demon fart or something. Either way, I wanted to spew my guts in revulsion. It was that bad.

I can only hope that a good night's sleep will erase the foul memory of this evening. And so I go to my bed with hope in my heart, and perfume on my upper lip. Goodnight, dear ones.