I fart too big & no one is nice about it

Ashlyn Quintus, Candy Corn Guzzler

My deepest fear, a re-occurring nightmare in fact, is being somewhere public with many or few people around me when I let out a horrible toot. A big honker. A whizzpopper so stinky, so loud and obvious it can’t be covered by the classic squeaky shoe gimmick or smelt it dealt blame game. No doubt am I the game-dealer, a game I feel truly sad, embarrassed and kind of ill to be playing. A very crowded, corporate elevator or an escalator ascending slowly with in front, leading the pack of fateful victims behind, or perhaps a quiet library corner with just one other fateful sufferer and me, these are some sorrowful settings of my greedy flatulence affluence that haunt me.

       However, it is not only the unfortunate wind-breaking I fear. It is what would come after. Pure rage. Not the usual keep calm and carry on, but instead, absolute confrontation from each stranger whose ears and nostrils were affected. I fear faces–red, spitting with reprehension or a child’s first words being “you disgusting fart-rag” after they throw their cheerios at me from the seat of their stroller. I fear someone, irrationally quickly, crafting a jest’s hat of sorts that says Just a Yuck One and making me wear it for the remainder of my time in public with everyone hysterically and disturbingly laughing themselves to tears. I fear one person will happen to have a novelty-sized spoon and lift me out of the public parameters very quickly and have a party without me because of my keister corruption and then I would be alone. I pray this never occurs for me. It is my Largest Fear… about my rear.