How I Discovered That Farts Stink

I mentioned the other day that I can't smell, and so one may wonder how I discovered that there actually is such a thing as smell. Below is the story of how I found out.

It was blizzard-cold that day, with snow and sleet whirling across the fields and through the trees like icy confetti. I can't remember why I was in the pickup with my two brothers, but, being the youngest, I had to sit in the middle with the gear shift between my knees. The outside temperature was within a fingernail of zero.

Then I had a small release of gas, the silent but deadly kind some folks claim. I knew my brothers couldn't have heard it, but within a minute both started gagging and hastily cranked (Yes, cranked in those days) their windows down to douse their heads in the frozen wind outside. One brother muttered something about, "crawled in there and died." The other just gulped at the thick, cold air. Each gave me a glare that could have stripped lead based paint off a wall.

I remember the feeling that came over me then. It had little to do with finally understanding that “smell” was real. No! I was thinking of the times my big brothers had lorded it over me, of how they always stuck me with the dirtiest jobs on the farm and how once they’d hung me upside down in a feed barrel. Now the worm had turned. Now I had the power. And I was gonna use it.