This is a story about Bob. Bob was an elephant of a man.
He flew into Columbus from California for a meeting and his bowels did sway and gurgle.
Back in those days, our office only had one bathroom and its walls reverberated with even the tiniest trickle of liquid dribbling in the bowl. The small room was like a giant sieve and sound and smell alike were not confined within its 80s décor walls.
Bob called for a break and asked for directions to the bathroom.
The wretched sound of the release of his intestines nearly coincided with the slamming of the door.
The entire office heard his agony. He was beyond the point of hiding his shame.
And like standing on the beach and seeing a tsunami in the distance, everyone within earshot knew that there would soon be a wave of putrid, ass death crashing through the office that none could escape.
The smell caused the doorknob to dissolve and the receptionist melted like the Nazis at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Holly was in the back office and was far enough away that she was only made blind by the smell. She lit a coffee scented candle that had three years’ worth of dust on it. In her haste, she forgot to remove the plastic wrapping on top. The combined smell of ½ digested airplane food, melting plastic and burning coffee dust finished the rest of us off. We all died.
Bob returned to the meeting several minutes later and we continued without saying a word.