Today, some guy walks out of an elevator, smiles at me, and gives me a friendly little nod.
Nice guy, I thought.
I step in. The doors close.
And about two seconds later, I realize I've made a terrible mistake.
Jesus, Mary, and the entire Board of Health!
What on earth died in there?
I'm telling you, it smelled like a raccoon had crawled into a dumpster full of boiled cabbage, and died, two months ago.
My eyes are watering. My lungs fighting for air.
I'm hitting every button on that elevator.
Third floor, seventh floor, basement. I don't give a spiffy damn. At that point, I would've gladly crawled out between floors and taken my chances.
And then it hit me.
That guy.
The smile.
The friendly little nod.
He knew.
That wasn't a friendly nod. That was a transfer of custody!
That wasn't a friendly nod. That was a transfer of custody!
He walked out of that elevator knowing full well what he'd left behind, and now I'm trapped in a small metal box with the consequences of his very poor dietary decisions.
Then...
Ding!
The doors open.
There's a young woman standing there waiting for the elevator.
She takes one step inside, stops, and her expression changes.
She looks at me dead in the eyes.
Then she looks back into the elevator.
Then she looks at me again.
And slowly backs away with a repulsed expression.
"Ma'am, wait! Oh that wasn't me!"
Great.
Now I'm the guy standing alone in an elevator, desperately explaining to a complete stranger that I didn't fart.
Nothing establishes your innocence quite like announcing "I didn't Do It!" while being the only one in the room.
She doesn't say a word. Just shakes her head and scurries away.
The doors close again.
And there I am.
Alone. Surrounded by evidence. No alibi. Holding my last breath.
Pondering why I didn't exit the elevator when I had the chance.
Listen, people. If you've got nuclear something brewing downstairs, have a little consideration.
Take the stairs. Go outside. Find an open field.
Just be downwind.
But please, stop turning public elevators into personal shart bank.
An elevator is a small metal box with limited ventilation and absolutely nowhere to run. There ought to be some kind of emergency "Fart" evacuation shute... or something. Anything.
And to the diabolical madman who smiled at me before abandoning that airborne hazardous spill...
I hope you're proud of yourself.
Really, I do.
Because 6 hours later, I think I still taste it.
And somewhere, there's a woman who will probably spend the rest of her life telling people about the disgusting smelly old dude she encountered in an elevator.
Meanwhile, the actual farter is probably sitting at home eating another bowl of expired chili.
Some people have absolutely no respect for their fellow man.
Some people have absolutely no respect for their fellow man.
That's the kind of stuff you save for buddies and kids. Not strangers.
Comments 9
Pamela1968 10-20-2026, 04:23 AM
Dale F 10-20-2026, 04:58 AM
Chris the ghost talker 10-20-2026, 05:27 AM
Louie 10-20-2026, 08:18 AM
But I don’t toot… I’ll carry around some fart spray with me 😈
SAMX 10-21-2026, 07:45 AM
Diabolical. 🤣
JVieira 10-21-2026, 11:13 AM
And Sam, please tell me this is a fictional story, lawd,
SAMX 10-21-2026, 01:35 PM
True, but I embellished it to be funny instead of straight up humiliating. I did plead my innocence but she wanted nothing to do with it.
Louie 10-21-2026, 01:56 PM
I absolutely will. No treats coming from this old lady. Only tricks. I can’t wait to walk the neighborhood with my fart spray. Those little shits better watch out.
Muhahahahaahah
JVieira 10-21-2026, 02:52 PM
And Sam, how embarrassing!!!!!
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