The Fart

As many of you know, I am the epitome of class and sophistication.

(For those of you who don’t know me… You’ll just have to take my word on it.)

I watch foreign films, I am calm and collected, I look great in hats, and I have a British accent (sometimes).

My sense of humor is also extremely high-brow, highly developed, and refined… New Yorker cartoons, calembour, equivoque, witticism, double entendre, and elaborate limericks.

So when a realtor came into our home and let a huge one rip, I was surprised by how funny I found it.

The home – in which we are currently residing – was recently put up for sale, so we had a realtor come by to take a look around. We let him move from room to room, without bothering him, or enquiring about his cologne (which he obviously really wanted us to notice).

It was dinner time, so my husband and I began preparing dinner. The realtor entered the kitchen, moved to the counter, laid his notebook right on my cutting board, and started to write. I cleared my throat, obviously annoyed . The realtor looked at me blankly and pushed his glasses up his nose.

And then it happened…

A stranger farted in our midst.

And it was loud… A real ripper. 

I stood there in shock.

At first I thought, “There’s no way he would just cut the cheese, right here in our kitchen, with us standing just 18-24 inches away… Only a crazy person with no social graces would do such a thing!”

I looked over at my husband, who was obviously avoiding eye contact.

We both knew.

This man’s body had released a flatus… A puff of gas and vapor from his rear end.

And here’s the really weird thing – none of us acknowledged it. No one said anything. His bum had trumpeted

We stood there, inhaling this man’s internal aroma, for at least 30 seconds before any of us dared to speak.

“If you know of anyone looking to buy, here’s my card.” He pulled a business card from his blazer pocket, handed it to my husband, and moved to the door.

I looked at my husband, and my eyes were wide. He stifled a laugh as the realtor slipped on his shoes and let himself out the front door.

As soon as the front door closed, we laughed... I’m talking belly-hurting, tears-streaming, pee-your-pants kind of laughter*.

And then we opened a window.

 

+++

* Usually reserved for unsophisticated types.

 

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