My Smelly Farts

The Owner and I battled through driving rain to visit the pub for an evening of carols last night. Upon our arrival we both looked as though we had visited the pond, which indeed I had earlier in the day after my little brush with the black car with the big exhaust pipe and even bigger attitude problem. You may also remember my reports of The Owner's somewhat less than charitable response to my plight and my avowed intentions for revenge. Well my day had gone well in that regard, as I had created a substantial amount of back pressure to the point where my tummy was becoming... well.... uncomfortable. The Owners face lit up when we got to the pub, the wood burner was roaring well and his favourite chair for such occasions, beside the wood burner, was empty. To be honest, so was every other chair, as he was the first to arrive, which is what prompted his next gesture of largesse which he always makes when the pub is otherwise empty. "Drinks all round everyone, there on me!" Barmaid Hoomun laughs at his joke as though it is the first time she has heard it although he tries to get that one in at least once a week if possible. Drinks all round, bought for just him, he flopped down in the chair and set about his task for the evening of steaming gently by the wood burner. I hid under the chair and waited. First to enter was my mate Vic R and he bounded across the room to shake The Owners hand. So I let out the first little escape of gas... it was a good one and showed promise for the rest of the evening! Vic R went a funny colour and moved quickly on to the other end of the bar. Next to arrive was Lady Organist Hoomun who The Owner knows quite well and he jumped up quick to have a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.... more gas leaks! She asked him if he was staying in that chair and then promptly had the piano moved to the other end of the room claiming it was better for the acoustics. No-one had noticed me hiding under The Owners seat as I parped away. The Owner seemed strangely unable to notice the gut wrenching stench that was emanating from under his seat through the fog of steam that drifted upwards from his jacket as it dried. I waited quietly for my opportunity as the room filled with village hoomuns and everyone all came and stood around the fire with much jolliment and frivolity. I let it go when the most people possible were all stood around The Owner, it was so good it made my bottom sting a bit to be honest, but it was worth it. Everyone went down and stood at the cold end of the bar around the piano. I decided to stay where I was, under the seat and out of the way, just in case anyone put two and two together and worked out that the smell may not have been coming from The Owner. I felt a point had been made and by the end of the evening the pressure in my belly had been returned to more manageable proportions. The Owner, on the other hand looked quite pitiful sat on his own by the wood burner not understanding why no-one would go anywhere near him.