We all know that guy at the gym—the one who’s always there, completely comfortable, but somehow doesn’t look like he exercises at all.
I was walking past one of these regulars, who was sitting on a bench between sets. I was about six or seven feet away, just heading toward the dumbbell rack, when suddenly…
💨 A perfectly timed, earth-shaking fart.
It was the kind of fart amplified by the bench, echoing through the gym like a battle cry. I swear, out of the corner of my eye, I saw his shorts actually move from the draft.
It startled me so much mid-stride that I almost jumped back. But when I glanced at him? Completely blank expression. No reaction. No shame. Just sitting there like nothing happened.
I still don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.
