Scapegoat
March 25, 2005
I'm on the flight right now to Detroit. About two minutes ago I was in a pretty bad mood because the ghetto, 8-Mile, interracial teen couple in front of me needed to change their love child's poopy diaper and it reminded me of reason #10,279 why I don't want kids: poop stinks. Sure, one can endure the odors produced by his own body, but it takes love and selflessness that I don't possess to suffer the putrid stench that is infant feces.
Ah, but yes, I did say that I WAS in a bad mood. So, what turned it to a good one?
I soon realized that in about two hours the obligatory fart from sitting in that awful position that would begin to rumble in my stomach would need to be released. And what better opportunity would be presented than to blame it on the baby in front of me?