I, Anonymous 

A Love Story

I'm not at all oblivious as to what a great catch you are, despite my being somewhat of an average pothead dude. We've had two awesome dates already, and date three is at my place. You've cooked an amazing dinner for us, but heavy cream can make me gassy after a while. We hang around my apartment, listen to music, drink, touch, and then we realize you have to get to the MAX before the last train leaves. As we walk to the stop, the cream works its way through, and suddenly the urge to fart is there. Not just any urge: the most insane urge. I can't even focus on what you're saying. I notice my demeanor has changed. We arrive at the stop. You're facing me and smiling when a huge delivery truck pulls up to the Starbucks. That roaring engine would provide the perfect cover. I unclench my anus. The fart dives into open air, and as SOON as it clears my cheeks, the driver turns off the engine. There is dead silence for a brief moment, then... this precious, beautiful, amazing girl stares in my eyes as I unleash the longest, grimiest Wu Tang fart of my life. The MAX couldn't have come sooner. Literally 20 seconds later you were gone, I thought for good—until a minute later I get a text: "I'm still laughing! What are we doing Sat?" Fuck yes!—Anonymous

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To submit your own rant, rave or confession, email anonymous@portlandmercury.com

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