We’ve been through a lot together; marathons, puberty… some other stuff too…
But after last night?
If I could turn my back on- well, turn my back on my body, I would.
Sadly, we’re stuck together.
But after the pure concentrated evil that came out of my back end this morning?
Don’t think I’m too happy with you. Cuz I’m not.
I appreciate you letting me know that you need to go out, I really do.
But let’s talk about tact.
Now I get if you can’t help that you wanna go out at 5 in the morning, but there are certain ways of telling me, ya know?
You could bark. I mean, sure, it’s not preferred for the rest of the building, but it gets the job done.
You could even just walk over to the door.
However, the method you chose this morning? Well, I feel like I should tell you… I wasn’t really a fan.
If you wanna sleep beside me in bed, I understand, lotsa dogs do it. You wanna sleep with your head facing my feet? Okay, we’re gettin’ a little weirder, but whatever. This does not mean that it’s okay to wake me up by farting in my face though. It’s just not the best way of waking up. Call me old-fashioned, but why don’t you try barking next time?
I think it might work better for both us.
Dear Guy Who Farted in the Elevator,
Listen, we all know it was you, okay?
How do we know that?
Well, allow me to rephrase that, actually.
“We” don’t know that you did anything. Because the “we” in this little story? Well, it’s really just me.
So given the fact that there are only two people in this elevator and I’m one of them, so I know for sure that I’m not the culprit, by the power of my Sherlock-ian deductive reasoning, I figure it was probably you.
Besides, if it had been me, you probably would’ve heard me laugh to myself a little… or at least awkwardly avoid eye contact for the rest of the ride down.
But the whole “awkward avoidance” thing is, well… it’s just kinda awkward. It’s not like it accomplishes anything either.
The smell remains. We still both know it was you. It’s just not a great situation.
Especially given that in this scenario, the elevator effectively becomes a slightly roomier, steel dutch oven.
So I’d like to end with a few words of wisdom that I’ve learned over the years.
He who smelt it is not always the one who dealt it.
You don’t need to deny it to be the one who supplied it.
Rather, when there are two people in an elevator and one of them farts, sometimes it’s just best to fess up.
Or in your case, it might jus be easier to look down shamefully at your shows while holding your breath for the remaining 8 floors.
Either one works.