Poison Gas Warfare

Last night, in the middle of the night, I was sure I had heard a poot from Mark's side of the bed. I laid there for a minute and contemplated working one up and letting loose in retaliation. I am capable of such a thing considering the things I eat. As I thought about this, a memory came flooding back from more than sixty years ago. 

It was second or third grade at Saint George School. We were in the middle of religion class, learning about how you could buy indulgences from The Church to get into heaven more easily. I remember the nun telling us that you no longer could buy them with real money, but had to pray and do good deeds to earn them. Which was a good thing for seven year old kids, because I had no money. Anyway, suddenly the nun stopped writing on the blackboard and turned around.

"Who pooped in their pants? Right now I want to know who pooped in their pants. I can smell it."

We all looked around, figuring we would be able to spot the culprit.

"We are not going on until the person who pooped in their pants acknowledges it."

No takers. I'm not sure if Sister Mary I forget her name had been teaching for long, but in a classroom of seven year old kids you're going to get the occasional whiff of a fart. Sorry, but kids smell bad.

"Alright then, everybody line up out in the hallway. The boys in front of the boys bathroom and the girls in front of the girls bathroom. Bruce, I want each boy to pull down their pants and let you see if they pooped."

Bruce was the teacher's pet and was the one who took names if Sister had to leave the room. Teacher's pet has it's advantages, although I'm not sure this was a perk Bruce had wanted.

"Girls, I want you to come into the girls bathroom one at a time and show me you didn't poop." Said Sister Mary I forget her name.

So it went, each boy going in, then coming out relieved that their underpants were skid mark free. I remember my turn, quickly pulling my pants down and then up. Very disturbing. It turned out that nobody had pooped in their pants, unless it was Bruce. What probably happened was that somebody passed gas after eating a big bowl of shredded wheat for breakfast. Shredded Wheat will do that to you. That's why I eat it, roughage.

So no, I did not retaliate against Mark. I did not fart back at him, I did not make fun of his fart. I went back to sleep. But before I drifted off to sleep a thought passed through my mind. Did that nun stage the whole thing so she could look in all the girls panties?