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Someone at work crop-dusted our hall today. Sitting in my cube minding my own business, I detect a slight odor wafting, precariously, by my nose. The odor only strengthens with the unmistakable mark of fresh shit tinged with a faint hint of sweat. Someone farted in our hall and kept on walking, leaving a lingering trail of wretchedness behind for, I don’t know, I may be exaggerating here, but I’d guesstimate 15 minutes before dissipation.

Why? We are maybe 20 feet from the bathrooms and privacy rooms where you can fart, linger, and not have to worry about killing anyone with your putrid anal expulsions.

Posted on October 15th 2014 in Journal

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