Potty Dance

So I was taking a lift a few days ago and there was an interesting incident. The day had just ended and the lift stopped to let more people in. A youngish lady no older than 30 walked in. She was wearing the usual office garb-biege blouse, yellow skirt, high heels with stockings.

Maybe because I was a young man looking at a young woman (sorry, girls), but she was very fidgety. There were just six floors to the first floor and, despite standing closest to the door, she couldn’t keep still.

Just as the lift reached the first floor, she farted. And mind you, it wasn’t a quiet fart in a quiet lift. It was LOUD! The poor lady was understandably embarrassed, and the instant the lift doors opened, she literally ran out of the lift.

There were two thoughts on my mind. One, if she had worn a diaper, would her nerves have been calm enough not to make her fidget? For she would have felt protected, and it would have also absorbed the embarrassing sound somewhat.

And two? The fart stank real bad!

– Selv


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