Oh, you ripe, rotten bastard! From the far side of this cubicle you blanket the entire area in your foul fog, nonchalantly slurping soup. You silence conversations from across the room as the wind from your bowel causes people to lose concentration and frown, wrinkling their noses. Your furtive glances about do not go unnoticed, now that your flatulent nature has assaulted my nose several days running. I see your shameful smirk, that small facial tell betraying your odious stealth.
Oh! You henious criminal! You noxious mongrel! Oh! Oh! Again? Why?! How?!
Even wildlife would cower and slink from your putrid air. What nuclear fuel do you pump into that gut which causes such horrifying results? Canaries would keel over your vicinity, crows even. The man on my other side is covering the lower half of his face, leaving only his watering eyes visible. His productivity is reduced to nil as he focuses on breathing as shallowly as possible.
I hope this is just a passing gastrointestinal phenomena, some distress that will heal itself, and soon. Please, oh please...
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2 comments:
I am so sorry for your suffering!
Crow not get point of story.
Crow not fall over when human fart.
Crow flap away to tree.
Crow come back later.
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