Scents and the City of Embarrassment
The scent of lavender and vanilla hung in the air, a sweet scent to my nostrils. I had entered "Essenze & Delizie" with the intention of buying a scented candle for the bedroom, but now the only aroma I could perceive was the much more pungent one coming from my intestines.
I had this problem, you see. An embarrassing disorder, which made my social life a minefield. My flatulence was not discreet, oh no. It was loud, brazen, capable of silencing a crowded room. And the smell... well, it was better not to describe it.
I tried to control myself, of course. Strict diet, miraculous herbal teas, breathing exercises worthy of a Tibetan monk. But sometimes, my body decided to do its own thing, emitting sounds that would make a trucker blush.
Like in that moment, precisely. I was standing in front of the candle rack, torn between "Sea Breeze" and "Cherry Blossom," when I heard the sinister rumble. A shiver of terror ran down my spine. No, not here, not now.
But it was too late. A deep rumble, followed by a foul odor, broke the silence of the store. The clerk, a girl with pink hair and a nose ring, whirled around, her nostrils flaring.
With my tail between my legs, I grabbed the first candle I could find and headed for the register. I paid quickly, avoiding the clerk's gaze, and walked out of the store at a brisk pace.
As I walked down the street, my face still burning, I couldn't help but smile. What a ridiculous situation! But then again, what was wrong with it? Everyone farts, right? It's a natural function of the body, even if society insists on considering it a taboo.
I decided that from that point on I would try to be more philosophical about it. If I had to pass embarrassing gas, at least I should do it with my head held high. After all, life is too short to worry about farting in public.
