if someone farts in a forest... does it make a sound?

I just got back from my luxurious dining hall with Charlotte. They had super yummy noodle soup with grease floating on the top. Seriously, I can't believe shit like that is considered "ok" at our dining hall. If anyone receives something like that at a restaurant, they would for sure send it back. 

My least favorite person was working today, my campus's very own tyrant, Dean the Dining Hall Dictator. One day, some fabulous surgeon in LA will discover what's up his ass. It's probably a pony or a cure for cancer. 

I studied Dean as he swiped people's cards through the register to eat. With each person he swiped, he would study their card, making sure they were the exact same person in the picture. Then, he would exchange a few words with them about today's cafeteria delicacy. Finally, it was my turn to be swiped in. I couldn't even make eye contact with him because all I could do was stare at his stupid gold earring. He must of swindled a gypsy for that gold loop or bought it for fifty cents at a Disneyland junk sale. He glared at me and I gave him a cheesy grin. His eyes narrowed to little slits because he knew I was mocking his behavior. As he handed me my card and briefly reiterated today's menu, I thought I saw his mustache curl a little more on the sides. Today must be hunting day. 

In the cafeteria, hunting day meant that our good friend Dean was on the prowl. He would periodically scan the perimeters, moving in sharp, robotic movements. Dean treated his prized cafeteria like airport security, whenever a kid would leave the dining hall, he would randomly stop them and search their bags and pockets, making sure no nourishment escaped his sight. When he does catch a kid however, a polaroid is taken of them and placed on a bulletin board near the tray deposit area with the caption "Dining Delinquents". If Dean is working, he will automatically search these students, no questions asked. 

     

After a meal of onion rings and tacquitos, I walked over to the dessert bar and Charlotte followed. I picked out the five best cookies and gave a little smile to Charlotte. 

"Don't do it," she whispered, "the dining hall dictator is going to get you. Right before we got here, he hunted down a kid who took two pieces of fruit out of the dining hall."

   

"I won't get caught," I replied.

 

But let's just say, next time, I promise I will listen to Charlotte. 

I snatched the cookies and hid them in the depth of my vest pocket. I casually walked past Dean and opened the door to freedom, but then I heard a quick, "Did she just..."

I turned and made eye contact with Dean. His mustache was fiercely curling as he started to bolt towards the door. Normal people would probably cry or turn themselves in, but not me... I ran for my dear life. "I'll call you later," I yelled to Charlotte as I began to dash to the bus. I could hear Dean's huge feet banging against the cement. He was a foot taller than me, so he could definitely cover more ground. But by some miracle someone exclaimed "GET IN!" 

I turned around and I saw Brian waving at me from a passing car. I jumped into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me. He quickly drove off and in the rear view mirror I could see Dean's mustache slowly deflating in an epic defeat.

"Thank you," I sighed, completely out of breath, "You really saved my ass back there."

"No problem," Brian laughed, "whenever you need a getaway car for stealing baked goods, I'll be there.    

I smiled and leaned back in the passenger seat. 

When we got back to the apartment, I really wish I had been caught by Dean. 

Elizabeth wasn't home yet, so Brian and I began talking and eating cereal together. Then, he told a joke about my love for Tila Tequila and we continued to play off the joke. Eventually, we were both in a fit of laughter and then, the worst thing possible happened... I farted. Not the silent and deadly fart, the kind of fart you do when your alone in your bed at midnight and you had a little too much Mexican food. It was as if a firework had launched out of my ass for the entire kitchen to see. Our laughter fit completely disappeared and Brian just stared at me. He was looking at me as if I had just murdered a lamb with my bare hands and was trying to convince him to take a bite. The sound of the fart echoed in the kitchen, I can still hear the burst of a breeze trumpeting out of my butthole . I had to say something because the silence was deafening. 

"Toast," I exclaimed, "Yeah, toast."

Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. I just chatted chunks. It's really a problem, whenever I don't know what to say, words or in this case a word, expels from my mouth. Sometimes it fits with the conversation, most of the time however, it makes no fucking sense. 

"Toast?" Brian questioned.

"I really like toast," I jumped up from my seat, "and I like bread. I make bread? I mean, I'm going to go make some toast, yeah toast."   

"Hey baby," Elizabeth barged through the front door, "Sorry I'm late, I..."

I cut Elizabeth off before she could finish, "Bye," I replied. 

I sprinted into my room and locked the door. With my luck, when I hangout with Gluck tomorrow, maybe I'll shit my pants and they will turn into golden eggs in front of him.