Well, here we are, packed like sardines in this elevator and marinating in a thick, beefy cloud of my fermented intestinal gases. Enough with all the accusatory glances and throat-clearing, Kurt. This fart is one hundred percent my intentional fault, and maybe once you all hear me out on why I ripped it, you’ll change your minds about the melodramatic way you’re reacting to it right now.
So why did I just fart all up in the middle of this crowded elevator? My reasons are simple and plentiful:
1. To raise awareness for an air pollution charity that I support.
As a proud contributor to Americans for Cleaner Air, I’ve learned that certain chemical compounds in a standard fart, such as sulfur dioxide, can cause respiratory issues and create acid rain. Can you imagine a little brown cloud in here dumping acid rain all over us? The mind boggles at the utter destruction that would cause. So I challenge you all to think of this befouled elevator as a microcosm of the national and global crisis on climate change.
At such a critical moment for our planet, Bernice, I’d like to think you’d be focused on reducing greenhouse gas emissions and shifting to cleaner energy sources, not on holding your breath or waving an empty folder in front of your face.
2. To teach all of you a much-needed lesson about humility and compassion.
Some of you, especially Kurt and his precious marketing department, could use a hefty, honest dose of raw humanity. And what better embodies that sentiment than being helplessly immersed in a substantial, perfectly-timed fart from one of your fellow humans? You turned me down for drinks last week, Paula, and I see pieces of yesterday’s Korean BBQ lunch stuck in your teeth, Donny. We all have human flaws is my point here, and if my flatulence can establish a bridge of connection and understanding between all of us, I’ll gladly repeat this scenario each and every morning.
3. To prove to myself that I really could do it.
We all possess different personal goals and benchmarks for success. Jeanie, your desk is covered with the particular brand of religious figurines that you collect. My supervisor Brad says he desires “to build a well-mannered, competent sales team for once.” To each his or her own. For me, I’ve always admired our company’s lofty building and its single slow-moving elevator; I couldn’t imagine a more ideal environment in which to peel a batch of dirty air onions. And now that I can confidently say I’ve done that, I’m eternally grateful to be surrounded by so many of my respected peers in this triumphant moment.
4. It’s a classic family tradition.
Passing wind in confined spaces has been passed down for generations in the McDowell clan. From my great-great-great-grandfather crop-dusting the patients on his operating table to my Aunt Nancy’s infamous locked-window stinkers during lengthy road trips, farting on a captive audience is baked into my DNA. I don’t expect outsiders to understand. And since I never made my father proud before he vanished without a trace at sea, it’s even more vital that I carry on my family’s legacy here today. Hopefully my dad’s looking down from whatever heaven you choose to believe in, Diane, and he’s beaming ear to ear, not making fake retching sounds to her cubicle-mates.
5. It wasn’t actually a fart, it just sounded and smells exactly like one.
This reason might not sit well with some of you, primarily because it denies our all-too-real shared experience from a few seconds ago. And I get it, I’m also not one to believe in conspiracy theories. But what if I really did step on a duck just now? Or what if this building really is infested with Mexican barking spiders? Is that too far-fetched to be true? Oh, you say I’m trying to “gaslight” everyone now, Kurt? Wow, how mature of you to make a joke like that at a time like this.
6. To keep things interesting around here.
We run around this office for eight hours a day like a bunch of soulless, sell-out corporate robots. But there’s got to be more to life than just selling insurance policies and exchanging pleasantries with coworkers. We could also exchange what I like to call “unpleasantries” as well. My fart is the perfect example to illustrate that point. Every once in a while, we could all use a pungent reminder to lighten up and let our guards down. Bev and Dan from finance, I know you guys need a good laugh, back there crunching numbers all day like you do. It’s okay if you don’t find this funny, you can still laugh.
7. I didn’t feel like holding my fart in until we arrived at my floor.
Okay, I’ll admit, this almost feels like a selfish reason to me, but I simply felt too impatient to wait for a more private, appropriate place to lay out all this hot cheese. Luckily, I also knew this would be a safe space to vocalize those feelings, so I don’t mind being a little vulnerable for a second. Some of you refuse to make eye contact with me right now, but I appreciate you remaining silent and present anyway as I speak my truth. Please put away that travel-sized bottle of perfume, Ginger, it won’t help much against an odor this strong and persistent, trust me.
8. My phone app told me it was time to do it.
Some of you may remember my company-wide memo about this last month, but I downloaded a time-tracker app for all of my toilet-related activities and it now rules my life. If I don’t expel whatever my phone tells me to, whenever it tells me to, I’m going to mess up all my daily stats in that app. I’m not a half-assed kind of guy, and someone’s got to have some integrity around here. Besides, what’s the point of me committing to a beans-only diet over the summer break if I’m not REALLY going to follow through with it?
So there you have it. I bet you all feel bad for pinching your noses now, don’t you? On second thought, I’m actually glad I farted in this elevator. None of you cowards were ever going to do it, so it may as well have been me. Bet you wish you’d given me that promotion, huh, Glen? I’d be farting on the third floor right now instead of stuck in here with all of your elbows digging sharply into my ribs.
Hey, careful where you point that finger, Kurt, I just might pull it.
