Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Toots-day Morning

So there I was, half-asleep and opening the library this morning.

Just like any typical Tuesday morning, right?!

Well, for the most part, yes. I wanted to be back in bed. I wanted a sausage, egg and cheese McGriddle (note: two month anniversary of the McDonald’s Embargo today!), I wanted to continue rocking out to Miranda Lambert’s “Famous in a Small Town” and I wanted to sit down and begin meandering about the interwebs to find any late-breaking baseball news that had taken place between my last interaction with the world wide web 20 minutes prior (note: none).

So you see, Faithful Reader, it was just like any other Tuesday, except that when I swung open the front door to the lobby something was amiss.

What could it be you ask?!

Was it a band of rogue wolverines hungry for groggy, Midwestern flesh?!

Was it George Carlin’s ghost come back to haunt me for stealing his material during a stand-up comedy act freshman year of college?!

Was it Jennifer Aniston finally coming to confess her undying love for me…and to publicly admit that she also thinks John Mayer is a tool?!

No, no, Faithful Readers. It was an odor; a foul, pungent odor that does not belong in, on, around or near a library.

What acrid odor did my nose detect?!

Fart.

Bad fart.

The stench may have caused some slight hyperbole (as stenches of this magnitude are wont to do) but there was a bluish-gray haze in the air and the paint had begun peeling from the walls like in some trippy early ‘90s rock video.

The two men sitting in the lobby were both stone-faced and suffering. I could tell one of them was responsible and the other was simply taking it like a man, which is to say he was stupid.

Men are known for being stupid and any man who will try outlast a fart of this enormity is clearly very stupid.

As soon as I retreated back into library with its old and musty—yet vastly superior—air, one of the dudes jumped from his seat and went into speed-walking mode and zipped right by me and into the library. The other dude just stayed in the lobby.

Logic would say that the dude who stayed was the one who did the ozone harm, but I’m not so sure.

The dude who bolted may very well have been the offender in this situation and simply wanted to exit the premises of his latest caper. That would make the guy in the lobby, not only stupid and an obvious glutton for punishment (I assume he’s an extreme sports enthusiast), but also somehow incredibly smart for choosing not to follow the tooter into a rather small enclosed library.

This man may be the ultimate paradox of stupidity and genius in one package.

Although in the end, I guess it doesn’t really matter which dude smelt it or which dude dealt it.

…it smells like poo either way. :-(

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