For some reason, I’ve been taught to believe that farting in a store is less polite than farting once outside.

So I’m picking up a few things at a Rexall, pinching off a few juice-bombs so I don’t stink the joint out. I go through the checkout, head for the door, and prepare to let loose.

Just when I get outside, I run into this family acquaintance – an older woman who might even be some distant relative. But I’d already let most of the gas out already! I don’t know how much she heard, but she just smiled and chuckled. Good thing it was breezy and the traffic provide some background noise!

Fart-Meter:

• Stink factor: 3/10
• Volume: 7/10
• Characteristics: P-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-P-T P-R-R-R-R-P-T !!
• Trip to the John solved it: no need – passing bus helped enough already
• Fart Fuel: pasta salad loaded with olives & onions
• Casualties: a pseudo-grandmother who probably babysat me in 1980