To the dude that entered the elevator after me, I’m sorry.
The silent breath of death that escaped my pants into the
tiny gas chamber I left you in, was unfair and unwarranted.
The nostril fire that had burned your eyes and the childlike
stare of utter fear you gave me as the doors started to close
when I jumped off on whatever floor to escape your fate,
were just, well, hilarious.
I hope you survived my guttural expression of life. I hope
you survive to warn your children. For me, it provided one
hell of a laugh and a sense of victory.
I am sure you heard it during your painful ascendance of
at least the first four floors. Even though you will taste
that wretched smell for the next few days, I wanted to
I will spread your story, share your pain, and revel in the
hilariousness of it all. So again sorry. Sorry I am still a
child inside. A very stinky one at that.