The Mind of Spaz

Why do I eat Indian food?  I’m a white guy, with a white guy digestive system.  I know that. Yet I eat it anyways. It’s just so good! It smells good, it tastes good, it’s so spicy and exotic.  But it’s just so powerful to my whitey gut.

The minute the stuff gets past my stomach and into my intestine, it turns into a large angry boxer, doing fisticuffs with my bowels.

The Butter Chicken fisticuffs has some interesting side effects.  Yea, it tries to explosively crawl out my ass, but that’s not for at least five or six hours after I eat it.  In the meantime, it produces gas babies.

Horrible, foul smelling gas babies. LOTS of gas babies.

I know what happens when I eat Indian food, and I eat it anyways. And then do you know what I do?

I go to the gym.

Did you know that running puts something like seven times your body weight of stress each time your foot hits the ground? That’s a lot of pounding around when you’ve got thousands of little fart babies trying their best to escape and the only thing holding them back is your clenched sphincter.

So, I make the worst decision I could make. I go for a run on the treadmill.

I decide to get a good sweat on.  Two miles an hour. Three, four, then five.  My intestine was shaking around like a fat guy at an anorexic dance.  Finally, at five and a half miles an hour, my shutter could not longer hold back the butter chicken gas babies. With each step a butter chicken fart baby escaped my cheeks. Keep in mind that I’m running at five and a half miles an hour, so the farts came out my bottom at machine gun velocity.

And the farts hit the guy on the treadmill behind me like a Browning .30 Cal on full auto.  It had the same effect too. He collapsed immediately.

You see, the guy behind me was some sort of pro athlete or something. He must have been.  Because my five and a half miles an hour was a snail compared to whatever he had the thing set to.  I think he set it to maximum. Anyways, my fragrant ass gun made him drop onto the moving conveyor, which shot him into the back wall.

He crashed through the wall.  This might not have been too much of a problem, except behind that wall was the woman’s shower room.

I have never seen so much wet glistening titty and soggy beaver running around in my entire life! Those first few minutes were absolutely great!

The restraining order won’t let me come within one mile of that gym.

Oh well.  Now if you will all excuse me, I need to get some butter chicken. I’m hungry and could use a good cleaning out.

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We, as a working society, need a machine. A time machine if you will, but one that see’s the behavior of employee’s once they become comfortable and complacent in their job.

Not for the occasional extended break or coming into work a few minutes late or forgetting to put a quarter in the jar when you take a coffee. No, i’m talking about the serious issue. The ones that cause serious issues to the other employees.

It’s Mrs. K (not her real name although I’d love to post it).  She’s old, fat and ugly. But that’s not an issue. I mean, most of the workforce is old fat and ugly. Big deal.

She’s a sarcastic bitch.  Yea, her mouth doesn’t stop flapping. That too can be shut up with a few sharp words from me, because even though I’m not your direct boss I am way higher up than you are, understood? Good.

It’s not even her horrible work ethic that’s the biggest problem.

It’s her ass.

You see, she claims that she’s a diabetic.  She claims that it’s the medication that causes this.  Yet she continues to eat cakes, cookies, candies, chocolates, and anything else in site.

So what exactly is it that she does?

SHE FARTS.

Yea, I hear you all now. You’re all laughing. Oh, so what Spaz. You fart too. You’re the fart king. You think farts are funny. Why aren’t you enjoying this?

Seriously? Do you know why I’m not enjoying this? There’s a very simple reason why I’m not enjoying this. And I’ll tell you why:

BECAUSE SOMETHING CRAWLED UP INTO HER ASS, DIED, ROTTED, AND NOW SHE’S EXPELLING THE PUTRID ASS GAS.

That vile, rotten bitch.  They are small. They are silent. They are deadly. They stick to the walls, hang in the air, and bring tears to your eyes. And they come without warning from her. Nothing. She just pretends nothing happened as peoples eyes water and vomit spews forth around her.

Ok, fine. There was one time she actually gave warning, but not until after she sharted all over her adult diaper.  My desk is in front of the filing cabinets. She’s a file clerk. I saw her eyes go big and she beat a hasty retreat.

And then it hit me.

It was the worst, most absolute vile liquid fart that has ever came out of her old, saggy wrinkled ass. It hit me like a ton of bricks. My eyes watered, I dry heaved.  I got up and headed towards HR, finally sick of this shit, until I remembered the dumb cunt’s claim to medical issue. Fuck.

I went into the lab and tested some samples. Half an hour later the smell was still there. IT DID NOT MOVE.  The fart was neither lighter nor heavier than air, somehow completely defying physics. It didn’t spread, it didn’t move, it just hung there, turning the white walls brown and my curling my nose hair.

I want to know these things:

1. What sort of large animal crawled up their and died
2. How the hell did it get there
3. Why didn’t she notice it
4. Or if she did notice it, why couldn’t she be courteous and remove the damned thing and
5. Why can’t chronic farters be fired?
6. And why does she seem to enjoy destroying peoples lungs?

I guess she got tired of shitting herself every twenty minutes. She’s come up with a new trick.

Have you ever smelled a pissed in diaper?  One that’s been sitting on the baby for a while? Where it doesn’t smell like straight piss it smells like piss mixed with baking soda or whatever it is they put in the diapers to stop the smell.  Except the stuff that stops the smell is now making it worse because it’s been soaking in it for so long?

You know that smell?

Yea, that’s what she smells like now. She’s fucking PISSING herself.

Ugh.

And every one wonders why I do so much field work.

It’s not like I didn’t try to give her a clue. Air fresheners didn’t work. Automatic air fresheners hung above her desk set to spray her every 1o minutes just made her fart more. Hell, I even tried spiking her coffee with BeanO and NOTHING WORKED.

I’m at wits end. We all are. For the love of all that’s good and holy, can somebody PLEASE PLEASE help?

Please?

rant ass gas, farting, farts, old bitch, put on a diaper, stop sharting yourself

For Vyolet. May the farts be with you.

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