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burnin_vernon · 08-07-2008, 12:08 AM

When I was a manager at Canadian Tire, I was eating as badly as possible due to long hours and laziness and I had truly rancid gas...ALL the time. I had a good buddy who worked in the warehouse there who often felt the brunt of it all. I would be at one end of the warehouse (picture the length of the Big Box CT stores) and he would call me from the lunch room on the other side of the building to tell me he was meeting me in the back. I would drop a bomb and wait. A minute or so passes and I see him come through the doors to the warehouse waaaay at the other end. To watch his face slowly discover, comprehend, and react to a fart launched about a football field away...it was art. It was as though he ran into a wall, and he would do a 180 instantly and speedwalk back the way he came, cursing my name

I did this a lot in the warehouse. Not planting them, just releasing as it was a quick escape. Well, word was getting around and people spoke of the smells, but I was never busted. I became somewhat of a silent legend, almost an urban myth.

But even a legend has to rise above the norm to earn true status. My time came in the cash room. It was my new escape. I was one of only 4 or 5 who had keys to it, it was only used at set times in the day, and it was close to my department. My new fortress of solitude. Well, it didn't last long. After first christening this 8'x8' room with a brew so vile, I could hardly take it myself, I quickly escaped and shut the door; the perfect crime. Well, 4 hours later, the next cashier came out and complained of a horrible odor. Then the next cashier, and the next. There were descriptions of "rotten meat" and certainties of "corpses in the ceiling". I guess it smelled so bad for so long that the GM actually got a ladder and lifted the ceiling tiles to investigate.

Part of me felt bad for subjecting innocents to that, but the bigger part was holding back snickers that made me snort all day whenever someone mentioned it. Especially when this snooty Welsh chick walked out, complaining. My warehouse buddy, after hearing a few stories, immediately confronted me as the culprit. If I could have kept a straight face, maybe I could have denied it.

08-07-2008, 12:08 AM	#86
burnin_vernon Powerplay Quarterback Join Date: Feb 2006 Location: Vancouver Exp:	When I was a manager at Canadian Tire, I was eating as badly as possible due to long hours and laziness and I had truly rancid gas...ALL the time. I had a good buddy who worked in the warehouse there who often felt the brunt of it all. I would be at one end of the warehouse (picture the length of the Big Box CT stores) and he would call me from the lunch room on the other side of the building to tell me he was meeting me in the back. I would drop a bomb and wait. A minute or so passes and I see him come through the doors to the warehouse waaaay at the other end. To watch his face slowly discover, comprehend, and react to a fart launched about a football field away...it was art. It was as though he ran into a wall, and he would do a 180 instantly and speedwalk back the way he came, cursing my name I did this a lot in the warehouse. Not planting them, just releasing as it was a quick escape. Well, word was getting around and people spoke of the smells, but I was never busted. I became somewhat of a silent legend, almost an urban myth. But even a legend has to rise above the norm to earn true status. My time came in the cash room. It was my new escape. I was one of only 4 or 5 who had keys to it, it was only used at set times in the day, and it was close to my department. My new fortress of solitude. Well, it didn't last long. After first christening this 8'x8' room with a brew so vile, I could hardly take it myself, I quickly escaped and shut the door; the perfect crime. Well, 4 hours later, the next cashier came out and complained of a horrible odor. Then the next cashier, and the next. There were descriptions of "rotten meat" and certainties of "corpses in the ceiling". I guess it smelled so bad for so long that the GM actually got a ladder and lifted the ceiling tiles to investigate. Part of me felt bad for subjecting innocents to that, but the bigger part was holding back snickers that made me snort all day whenever someone mentioned it. Especially when this snooty Welsh chick walked out, complaining. My warehouse buddy, after hearing a few stories, immediately confronted me as the culprit. If I could have kept a straight face, maybe I could have denied it.