Okay what the hell, I'll tell this story.
I was taking the elevator down to the ground level at work one day and was spaced out reading the news on those elevator screens. I felt a small rumble in my stomach due to the prior nights wing and rib fest, so as the door opened to the ground level, I ripped a helty and hot one then proceeded to get off the elevator.
At least I thought I was on the ground level. I was actually on the 6th floor. And an older lady got on the elevator. Immediately I knew the consequences. It was, as George Carlin once said, a fart that could end a marriage.
She gave me a really nasty look as we finally departed on the ground level.
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