I’m just going to come right out and say it, one of the girls on my junior basketball team that I help coach farted and they won’t admit to it. Friday night my sister and I wound up taking three of our players to our game in Chase, and you know what? I like these girls. They’re pretty awesome and I think they’re hilarious. They also played a great game and they won. So yeah, I was pretty happy with them that night.
Or I was happy with them until we were driving home that night. There we were, cruising through some insane fog, the visibility was low, Tiff and I were making them listen to Missy Elliot, and the three teenagers we had crammed into the back seat of my mom’s truck were kind of quiet. That’s when I the smell hit me. It was disgusting. Like a fart, but rotten. And maybe a little burnt. This was burnt and rotten fart. I can barely describe this smell, but it was gross. It was like that rotten thing that you sometimes find in the back of your fridge and you have no idea what it was or when you bought it.
Ok, It was like that thing I sometimes find in the back of my fridge and I have no idea what it was or when I bought it because I’m a disgusting human being and sometimes forget the things that wind up at the back of my fridge.
This thing was a silent assassin that could have killed us all.
At first I thought maybe it was the truck making that smell. Sometimes trucks make gross smells. Except no one was saying anything so I was wondering if maybe it was just me that could smell it? I sat there for a few seconds wondering how no one else could smell what I was smelling. It was burning my nose hairs off so how could no one else be complaining? Maybe it was the truck. I really hoped that it wasn’t the truck. If the truck was making a smell like that…
“Was that you?” my sister asked me.
“Oh good,” one of the girls said in the backseat. “I thought it was just me that could smell that.”
Everyone started chiming in how bad the smell was and how they were hoping someone was going to say something while we all rolled our windows down.
“If it had been me,” I told my sister, “I would have been giggling my ass off.”
At that point everyone said they would have been giggling too if they had farted. Then we all sat there laughing at how we would have laughed over farting. Except no one would admit that it was them! Not a single person would claim that horrendous smell as their own. No one would admit that this stench had creeped out of their ass and into our noses. No one would own the stink they had created.
I bet that smell will come back to kill whomever abandoned it.
And honestly? I can definitely say that it wasn’t me. If it had been me, I would have locked the windows and made everyone bask in the ambiance of whatever the hell that smell was. Except whatever that smell was just really confused me. It also disgusted me, but at the same time it was confusing. Was it the truck? If it was the truck, what the hell was wrong with it that it would make that smell? Was it my sister? Was it one of the teenagers in the back seat? I had so many unanswered questions and all of them centered around one lonely and unclaimed fart. Mostly I was just confused about how anyone could make a stink like that without making a sound.
Or giggling about it. If I had made the smell I definitely would have had a proper laugh about it.
So now I’m blaming one of the teenagers for it because it’s more fun to randomly ask them if they had made that smell than it is to ask my sister if it was her. Personally, I don’t blame them for not confessing. After all, I’m blogging about it now.
P.S. Work It by Missy Elliot came on and I was convinced that the teens in the backseat were kids when it came out. Tiffany Googled it and as it turns out, one of them probably wasn’t born and they other two were a year old when Work It came out.