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2:03 p.m. - 2006-02-10
She strikes again.
I'm just sitting here, at me desk, picking my nose, shooting spit-wads over the wall, basically minding my own freaking business, and this ghost of a smell wafts my way through the corrugated cardboard and loosely woven synthetic fabric of the cubicle wall.

It comes through the flimsy barrier unhindered and builds in stregnth like a storm at sea brewing and steeping.

The noxious fumes overtake me, my tear ducts and nasal passages producing liquids in defense of the bio-hazardous substances invading my body.

I am on the floor in a heap, convulsing and praying to any higher power who will listen to end the assault or knock me out. Anything to make it stop.

It is a fart.

One guess as to who the perpetrator was...


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