IT DOESN’T SMELL…
Let me begin by saying that honesty is the best policy.
Always was, always is and always will be. No getting around it.
Never mind those tired, banal rhythmic taunts of the children:
“The one who smelt [sic] it dealt it.”; or “He who denied it supplied it.”
Nothing but nonsense; feeble and largely futile attempts to redirect. To hide.
To lie.
Healthy flatulence is a virtue, a gift really. Perhaps even a nod from God as it may signal that your insides are working properly.
We all need that to be the case. I mean most people enjoy eating. This is a by-product of that. So be proud that your gastrointestinal system works as it should.
And own up.
Have you ever been in a room with just one other person when suddenly seemingly out of nowhere an odiferous cloud wafts through — above and around, all the while in a slow-but-sure descent and then hangs like cheap wallpaper?
Immediately upon recognition and acknowledgement of this clearly discernible change in air quality, glances are cast and even eyes may meet while mouths remain closed.
(Although if you are poised to lie, this locking of the eyes is inadvisable. Not in the handbook. It’s like learning to drive with impunity in Massachusetts, Boston in particular: look straight ahead).
For what seems like an eternity nothing is said.
(With kids this time-frame is dramatically reduced).
Then, prolonging the inevitable grinds to a screeching halt.
“It wasn’t me…”
“I didn’t do it…”
Or the indisputable #1 on the hit-list: “What?”
Pardon the tasteless pun but please stop the crap.
It was either you or it was me (I).
Simple.
Short of a raw sewage leak overtaking the room this doesn’t just happen, okay?
Why not get right to it and claim responsibility, y’know kind of like ISIS does?
Revel in your accomplishment.
“Yup. I did it. Pretty good, huh?”
Or take the apologetic tack. “Sorry, kinda slipped out there.”
Or maybe ever-so-gently shade the truth. “Got a little bellyache.”
But just don’t lie.
One of the more novel approaches is to deny the existence of the pungency altogether.
I find that to be preposterous. Laughable. And totally implausible.
This posture incorporates identification, acknowledgement and ownership but infuses it with unfounded and embracing incredulity.
“Well, it doesn’t smell.”
Whaaat? Seriously? I am sitting right here. Are you shitting me? (Sorry).
How can you possibly say that? My olfactory sense and system work beautifully. What exactly is wrong with yours?
“It doesn’t smell.”
Really?
You better go to the doctor and get your sense of smell checked.
And while you’re there have him/her write you a script for truth serum.
Then fill it.
[Editor’s Note: This piece was written by Mr. Kaplan in August 2016.]
