Dear Person Who Farted on the Elevator:
I know what it’s like to not be able to hold in your air. I do. I mean, I’ve been there. I’ve eaten beans or onions or cabbage or lettuce, even, and then…OHMYGOD.WHAT’S.GOING.ON.WITH.MY.REAR.END?!!! So I get it. I do. But if you must let loose The Big One or a series of Big Ones in a small enclosed space I just wish you could’ve/would’ve held it in until you exited the small closed space. Now that would have been kind, thoughtful and respectful of others’ nose hairs.
Truthfully, the air in the elevator resembled old broccoli spears mixed with halitosis mixed with decomposition mixed with sewage topped with garlic. Sprinkle on some toe jam and that would adequately describe the very cloud that you left in the elevator.
I mean, I feel like airing out my blouse.
I mean, I think I threw up in my mouth a tiny bit.
For your sake I left some Beano on your desk. Please use it immediately.
Thanking you in advance for never committing this horrid workplace crime again.