Funny Story #1: Ghost of an Assassin

As well as writing some serious posts about politics, sociology and technology, I also thought I'd share some funny, immature stories which I have been a character in during my meandering existence on this interesting planet. Many of these (including this one) will be toilet-humour, and not recommended for the mature reader.

So currently I am staying in a hostel in Colombia. I am in fact the barman in this hostel. Last night while I was working at the bar, three girls came to sit and order drinks. I say girls, they were in their early 20’s. Usually I try to befriend guests, and would purport to be someone who can get along with almost anyone. This time was one of those exceptions. It quickly became apparent that we weren’t going to get along when the first girl spilt her beer over herself and somehow found a way to blame me, claiming that the temperature of the beer is what caused it to fizz out of the bottle. She refused to pay for her drink and for the rest of the night tried to make my life hell. Meanwhile the other two were spouting ignorant diatribe about the local people, the US presidential election and worst of all, the music I was playing. No one insults my music.

After a gruelling 4 hours with these bitchy, high frequency morons they left to go sleep upstairs in their room. I cleaned up and closed the bar. After counting the money with the receptionist, having a well earned piss and brushing my teeth, I too went to turn in for the night. I opened my door, and to my pleasant surprise I could see in the darkness, that I was sharing the room with the three chicken-heads.

They were kind of dozing, half asleep, moving around a bit. I crept through trying not to be noticed and got into my bed, conveniently positioned in the middle of them. I wasn’t sure if they had spotted me but I felt a distinct tension in the room.

There was a lot of tossing and turning, from me and them. The room was hot from the Colombian heat and the high sugar drinks we had been buying weren’t helping. I was also lying there thinking how much I hated these people and wondering if there was some way I could exact my revenge.

Then it came. Without any prompting or mustering of energy, the sensation of a huge fart brewing up in my stomach arose. This was amazing! My mood went from angry to excited with anticipation as the rotten gift festered and grew inside me. I had to start to concentrate on keeping it in; I wanted it to be as big as possible because I knew there wouldn’t be an opportunity to pass a second one. Then I became a bit worried, because I knew it was going to be hard to keep a fart of this size silent. The beauty would have been in them not being able to blame me for it.

After some minutes, crunch time came. I slowly relaxed my rectal muscles and pushed with my stomach with a force I hoped would encourage the gas to escape, without making my sphincter resonate. “Hwoooooshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”.

It crept out like the ghost of an assassin, completely silent in a long extended breeze. I could feel it’s warmth and humidity between my butt cheeks and knew that it was going to be deadly. Now all I had to do was remain silent, hoping not to give the game away with a giggle or even by choking on the smell myself. I was eager to smell it, so I could taste my revenge first-hand. After only a few seconds it hit me, like a 5 kilometer meteorite. The pungent odour was like the decomposing remains of a Colombian gang-fight, with overtones of sulphuric acid and oregano. There was a warm fruity aroma like mulled wine in a nursing home, with a sour grape after-burn. This was perfect.

The seconds after release passed very, very slowly. Considering how much they complained at the bar, I thought their reaction would be near-instant. I became nervous.

After a few minutes I became tired of the tension and decided to just come out with “Bleughh, who did that?” to see if I could invoke a reaction.

“Was?” came a voice in the darkness and the light turned on.

Lying around me were three beautiful German girls (not the girls from the bar), all with their noses masked by their bed sheets in an effort to block the smell. When they saw me they knew exactly who was to blame. They fucking flipped.

The next thing I knew I was having abuse hurled at me in Deutsche and the girls started putting their clothes on and spraying all sorts of deodorants into the air. To my horror the smell wouldn‘t leave and the girls stormed out, down to reception and asked to change room.

I was left alone in the room, dazed and confused, soaking in the smell of my own shit.

Well there it was, a childish story to brighten up your day. As I said I will be writing about more serious subjects (checkout my post on politics and evolution: https://steemit.com/politics/@joeviajo/our-inescapable-nature-why-politics-cannot-save-us-from-ourselves) amongst other things. Follow me for more!