The Applebee’s Fart

The Cast: Cindy (my date), Myself (the concerned).

So, just the other day (Friday, Sept. 20th) my wife and I went out to dinner and to rent a movie. But, before dinner, we stopped by a local shop to pick up a skirt my wife had seen and liked.

Normally, Cindy wouldn’t buy it for herself. She didn’t need it. She just liked it. So I wanted to get it for her, as a ‘just because’ gift. This part of the story is important because of the smell.

Where we live there is a shop of unique gifts. One of those oddity shops that sells all manner of stuff. The shopkeeper is a lovely woman who strives to provide our community with something different. And she does.

Within her shop, she has incense that permeates her shop and everything in it. It’s not overpowering or bad, it’s just part of the shop. And her merchandise. Whenever we buy something—and bring it home—there is always the question, “You bought this from The Wizz, didn’t you? I can smell it.” And we love it. It’s comforting, familiar, friendly.

So, we bought the skirt and then went to Applebee’s for dinner. Good food. We had mozzarella sticks for appetizers, I had Bourbon Street chicken and shrimp (it was awesome), Cindy ordered a meal that included fish and yummy raviolis, mashed potatoes and gravy, some broccoli, and a breadstick. And it was too much food for her. Fine, she will do that sometimes and then take the leftovers home to make a lunch for work for herself. This is also important because of the smell.

In the same complex as Applebee’s is our Walmart. We were headed there to rent our movie from Redbox, Mortal Engines (fantastic, and highly underrated, movie). We parked the car and went inside to grab a couple items and the film. We were inside for about 15 minutes. This, also is important because of the smell.

On our way back to the car we were talking, I opened the door for my wife, she paused her thought while I closed the door. I walked around to the driver side and got in. Once inside, with the door closed, I had sealed my fate. Someone had done something bad. There was the distinct odor of a nasty, guttural, ‘something died’ fart. But I wasn’t going to say anything because we all have those moments. It’s just human nature. It’s unfortunate, but it’s true. So I just left the issue alone.

As we begin to leave the Walmart parking lot, my wife finishes her thought, followed by, “It wasn’t me.” Apparently, she wasn’t going to claim something she didn’t do. Really?!? Well then, who did? Because it wasn’t me!

We realized that somehow the good smell from The Wizz, and the good smells of the delicious Applebee’s food combined into what my wife described as: “It’s as if someone opened our car door, farted, closed the door, and then left.” It was bad. Like death. In fart form.

As we drove off, I was waiting for the smell to fade. But it couldn’t because I was bringing it with me. In the backseat! Open the windows.” Ahhh, fresh air.

Once home, we unloaded, watched the movie, and had a nice night. The next day there remained a residual fart. It was like the Seinfeld episode of the bad smell.

Now. Now. Finally, after I bought some Febreeze my car now smells like Hawaii.

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