The church was unusually full for the evening services last night, with people standing outside under a slight drizzle when I arrived. Still, my favorite spot wasn't taken. Just off to the right side was a small nook in between the church and the parish office - private, cozy and with plenty of fresh air flowing in between the two buildings. That is my usual spot when the church is full. With no clear view of the altar (especially for the vertically challenged), the place was all mine.

Just as I was about to doze off during the extraordinarily long and boring homily, an old man, probably in his 60s, walked out of the side door and proceeded to my spot. Must have been bored by the homily too, I thought, as I watched him walk around a few times. Then, just as I was about to shift my focus back to the mass, he let out a howler, farting like there's no tomorrow! The intensity must have startled him too for he walked away red-faced. I, on the other
hand, found the whole thing hilarious, and desperately tried to stifle a laugh that would have stunned the whole congregation! However, what followed was no laughing matter as the stench started to permeate my cozy nook. And boy, was it horrible! I held my breath as long as I could and, luckily, the cool breeze swept the odor away after a few seconds. Still, I covered my face with my hanky, not to protect it from the smell but to muffle the giggles I couldn't get rid of. He he he. I stood there, head bowed and shaking, with my mind filled with flashbacks of the startled look on the old man's face.

But wait, there's another one (there must have been a sale on beans yesterday). Some ten minutes later an older man arrived. He too walked around aimlessly, as if undecided on what to do. Oh no, I thought, not another one. Does lightning really strike twice? I waited for the distinctive sound before I covered my face but there was none. Whew, false alarm, I thought. But just as was returning my hanky to my right pocket I smelled it, sneaking up on me like a stealthy predator to its prey. It was a bomb, worse than the first and I couldn't stand it, walking away hastily to the another spot. WTF, I thought, has my cozy nook been designated as a farting zone without my knowledge? Was there a "fart here" sign posted that only older people see? Was I invisible to them? The first time was funny but I was definitely pissed with the second. Besides smelling worse, it was a sneaky fart, a silent killer. The old guy must have had a silencer up his ass! LOL

I tried to concentrate on the rest of the mass but couldn't. Flashbacks of the previous incidents filled my head, together with my other church mishaps (1, 2, 3) from the past. Why does this always happen to me, I asked myself. And why always in church? Are these subtle (??) messages from heaven above? Do beans really cause gas? Can this be harnessed to solve our energy problem? Ha ha ha. More silly questions filled my head. However, the experience taught me one lesson: Never to venture into that spot again for my cozy nook is no more. I have since referred to it as ground zero! He he he. (Photo credits: www.buycostumes.com)

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help, gas attack! (another church mishap)

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