Olfactory Terrorism

January 24, 2017

Isn't that precious, how I arranged these as if these were the only things I ate?

Normally, I'm not allowed to eat these.

What you're looking at are Taco Bell ® bean burritos. I'm normally not permitted to stuff these into my gob because, while they're tasty as Hell, they are not without... consequences. You see, whenever I eat Taco Bell ® bean burritos, I start uncontrollably venting mortifying fumes. And the exquisite scent such emissions emit are reminiscent of beans but... but they're a whole lot worse.

While I can deal with it, albeit after opening windows once my body starts to depressurize in earnest, I don't live alone. For one thing, there's Brenda, who I love very much, and wouldn't want to suffocate with my ass blight. And then there's Crawford, our lovable curmudgeonly rabbit, a three-pound bundle of derision that always gives me the stinkeye if I discharge anything in his area.

Even if that little sucker has worse gas than I ever do.

But as it turns out, Brenda is out of town this week, for various reasons, and I have decided to indulge. I can do this because, apparently, the medication I'm on chisels away at my impulse control, so now I have a completely legitimate excuse. So yeah, I went to Taco Bell ® after work and ate... an inordinate amount of bean burritos. I haven't even had one in over a year, and they're just as tasty as I recall.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The flavor of their beans is vaguely reminiscent, in my head, of peanut butter. Which I guess sort of makes sense, since both pinto beans and peanuts are legumes. Though at the same time, it doesn't. After all, I can't picture myself eating a burrito filled with spicy red sauce, cheese, onions, and several ounces of hot peanut butter. But maybe I should try that.

You know, for Science!

My brain has been going in weird directions where food is concerned, so I guess I'm not at all surprised that this notion popped into my head. I was even debating attempting some homemade grilled cheese sandwiches, even though Brenda makes them a million times better than I do, and then attempting a grilled peanut butter sandwich as well. Again, because grilled bread and butter and peanut butter and and and.

The trick is actually motivating myself to do anything. I have been trying to accomplish this, but I haven't even done any cleaning in days. Sure, I haven't really made a lot of messes since I last rehabilitated the domicile, but stuff does add up over time. but I suppose I should do some before dinner, unless I do in fact order me a Godfather's pizza before I head home. Then it'll be early dinner / torpor time.

I haven't had Godfather's in a year, I think.

But yeah, I digress. Why am I eating these things that ostensibly make me emit a unique smell that is assuredly repugnant to everyone within noseshot of me?

Because I want my coworkers to suffer, that's why.

firebomb@obnoxiousjerk.com