Never Say Excuse Me Louder Than You Burp by Bob Deaton

Author:Bob Deaton [Deaton, Bob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

gaseous maximus

The average person passes about a liter of gas per day, spread out over an average of fourteen separate outbursts. Five thousand times a year the natural processes of our bodies are pitted against the rules imposed by polite society. The prohibitions are so unforgiving that even the sound is considered offensive, and we are left seeking moments alone where we may obey our bodies lest we explode and burst into flames.

I lost the gas battle in spectacular fashion in front of Karen Kupchek on April 12, 1962. In a lifetime of gas-passing, that is the one that I would most like to rescind.

Karen was a goddess with a radiant smile and a body made fit and golden brown by endless hours of tennis in the summer sun. Unfortunately, I could worship at her altar only within the sweaty confines of my fourteen-year old mind. Physical or even social contact was out of the question. I was a geek, and a goddess does, after all, have her standards. We sat back to back at tables in biology class, and I constantly manufactured opportunities to turn around and gaze upon her magnificence – a dropped pencil here, a look out the window there, a conversation with the nameless person beside her. It was all part of my daily regimen. On one such occasion I dropped a sheet of paper, and when I bent down to retrieve it, a mighty roar emanated from behind me. The fart that roared had been laying in wait by the exit, gathering its strength like a hurricane and selecting the optimal moment to betray me. As farts go, this one was breathtaking, perfectly formed and unmistakable. No one would mistake this baby for the sound of a chair dragging or a cheap imitation from an adolescent armpit or mouth. Nope, this was the real thing.

Karen never looked around, never mentioned it, and never brought it up at our class reunion twenty years later, but I’m sure it was her most memorable fart, too, because she most certainly never passed gas. I’m also quite certain that she visited the bathroom only as a social obligation and not to fulfill any tawdry biological necessities. My story has no doubt been recounted many times throughout her years.

“Sure, I remember the time Bob Deaton farted in biology class. I remember it like the day Elvis was drafted. Mr. Heinz was droning on about the symbiotic relationship between the Philippine hermit crab and the sea anemone when it came. I swear Bob’s guts must have exploded. I didn’t dare move afterwards. I just sat perfectly still, and didn’t breathe for about eight minutes. Three people around me passed out and one of them was hospitalized. I think maybe he died. When I couldn’t hold my breath any longer, I opened the jar of pickled salamanders and used the formaldehyde as an air freshener. What ever happened to Bob? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he got an A in that class.

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