A chubby, German girl having found a 24 hour gym all to herself one early Saturday morning, was enjoying "The Talking Heads" on volume 23 while leaving the lights dimmed for her run on the treadmill. Since there was nobody to share with, she was able to turn all the fans her way and ran amidst a refreshing electronic breeze. Shortly upon running she was faced with a moral dilemma. The night before she had broccoli for dinner and was now experiencing a severe amount of gas. Although the excretion smelled of road kill and rotten eggs, she thought it best to release the poison, death gas since she was completely alone. Not to mention, the week before she had found herself in a situation which she was unable to release her gaseous buildup and, thus, suffered severe stomach pain. The next thing the chubby, German girl knew, she was farting with every step. Despite the fans, the farts hung heavy in the air. Moments after her 23'rd fart step, in walked Mr. Perfect. Mr. Perfect was tall, dark and symmetrically flawless. He was effortlessly tanned year round and made every repetition seem orgasmic! Music and time slowed when he entered and both women and men stopped whatever they were doing to watch his perfect, rippling body move around the gym.
Instantaneously, the chubby, German girl clenched tight her butt-cheeks. She realized how dire the situation was. The moment the door opened she took note of all the possible places Mr. Perfect could go, and hoped he stayed far, far away from her. The spacious area to her left housed the heavy gym equipment. A place where someone his size might go. He turned right, however, and clearly had no intention of heading that way. Instead, he took a right, and at first it seemed as though she was safe. He headed toward the locker room, an obvious first stop. But, no, Mr. Perfect had another destination in mind. He wanted to warm up with some cardio first. Some treadmill cardio, and he wanted the one right next her. As soon as she realized he was headed her way she became painfully aware of how bad she smelled. The thick scent that hung in the air could only be described as a mixture of runners sweat and a mushroom omelet. In the last moments leading up to his final steps on to the treadmill next to hers, they made eye contact. He looked at her like an Abercrombie model and then smiled showing her his bright white perfect teeth, and then she watched it slowly fade into discomfort. He looks around, his senses trying to pinpoint the awful odor and then, like a light bulb, he realized the source.
Now, chubby, German girls are a proud breed. She was not about to shamefully turn off her treadmill and run, red-faced out of the gym never to return. Instead, she turned and looked at Mr. Perfect with no fear in her eyes and said as plain and confident as she could, "you should probably check your shoes." And then,the chubby, German girl walked dauntlessly out of the gym, sure to never workout that early on a Saturday again.
Moral of the story:
Never, even if you are alone, fart in public where beautiful men frequent.
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