I Was A Romantic Once
Romance was beautiful in the mist of my bliss youth. I was vivacious with perfect skin and slick black hair that fell in curled waves on top of my caramel skin. My creamy orange shorts hugged my toned thighs as a Popsicle wrap covered the cold prize it held within.
The breeze had swept in a thousand perfect dogwoods that circled me in an awe-inspired alinement. The large grey doors kept open letting in more and more pleased students in the school's after hours. They clapped at my strides with my beloved clay toned tank top revealing hints of a sports bra lining and a cute zebra undershirt that caught me in all the right places. These great peers could not capture my gaze for I saw the Greek god of my heart sitting peacefully alone across from the golden baked track cooked by the sun.
I thought it was a sign from god that he was alone in the courtyard without the company of his championed friends all decked with godlike six packs like him no doubt. He looked up at me, from the blue checkered table, his golden hair highlighted by the sun lit horizon. His sea blue eyes connected with my mahogany brown ones like a ship sailing in the vast oceans. How was I to know I boarded the Titanic?
It was all too extraordinary at first. He raised like Poseidon and swept into the hall, all common men and women staring fondly at his muscles that ripped through his green North Face jacket. It happened all so fast as his lips crashed into mine in heated tensions. I was caressed in a poise similar to the WWII soldier and nurse kissing to a victory. It was beautiful! It was perfection! It was a God given peace that all other ninth graders would envy me for until I graduated. I would go even as far as to say we looked like models out of a magazine or perfect lovers destined for one another. However, all good things cannot last!
I felt his rough cold hands squeeze my firm butt cheeks. It may have been the shock of his grip, or the excitement to be in such a blissful rose-colored moment, or maybe it was the beans I ate the night before that lead to the heartbreaking end to this seemingly sweet story.
As he was feeling my very perfect buttocks I let out at first a toot, small and quiet, but then it grew louder like the engine of a car that was left to rust spitting out over and over. He ignored and I ignored the small signs of the event, but it got worse. Oh, it got much worse! It now grew to a loud fart that could be heard over speeding trains or cars halting two seconds before hitting a pedestrian.
It was not just any loud fart, it was a wet, slimy, sticky fart. The kind that won competitions in man offs, that started global warming, the kind that even the Nazis hid from in fear over! It was far too potent for any living species. Even those that could not smell tasted it like a thousand rotting fruits invested with insects mixed with tangy road kill sprayed on by skunks like a forbidden seasoning topped with diced molten rocks slathered in puke.
My butt vibrated as it let out the sounds of bursts and crackles. It grew louder and louder as it raged on and on. It was like a horrid volcano erupting over and over spewing lava and tephra. The smell like a trash dump or a barn full of cow and horse dung so bad the flies had died on impact.
Do remember that my butt is being caressed by my crushes masculine hands in the middle of the hallway. I also want to take note that the whole school had fallen silent, staring dreamily, at the scene of us kissing. Even still, my toxic farts continued on. It had gotten to the point where his hands shook off from the heat and hot air pressure of my butt. In horror he yelled out, like a five year old girl, at the sight of his hands being completely covered in what seemed like moist browning mold dripping from his fingertips.
He then dropped me to the floor and ran, still screaming like a banshee, up the main hall stair case. The common folk followed suit trampling like wild herds of donkeys on one another. One man did not make it and prayed to Jesus before he passed on to heaven. Another ran out of the door yelling to outsiders "Don't go in there, it's not safe." The track coach stared at the wall before asking "Who dropped the Turd?" followed by the JROTC* Officer's comment of "Shit stank."
I was then left in a whirlwind of emotion on the cold floor wearing my tight track shorts only equal to a years worth of dirty Jock socks dumped in the sewer.
I was a romantic once.
* JROTC= Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps
Posted: 5/7/14; Updated: (1) 5/8/14;