The tinder chronicles (excerpt)

After another drink, the conversation turned to her telling racist joke after racist joke. The least offensive of which was “What do you call an Arab man inbetween two houses? Ali”. I didn’t disguise my reaction to the jokes. They didn’t make me laugh. I explained that being Iranian didn't give her a get out of racist jail free card, and I tried talking her out of trying out a career in stand up. After a couple of drinks, she began conversing with anyone in the bar, the alcohol had unleashed her and now she was on a rampage. A group of people at the table at the other end of the restaurant began singing happy birthday, she said she was going to the toilet, and on the way went over to speak to them. I was horrified as she started telling the group her racist jokes. Expecting an argument at any minute, I prepared to gather my things. Instead, an orgy of pompous laughter erupted from the table as she continued on her spree of awful and incredibly offensive one liners. My stomach was uncomfortable. Nobody was around me, I adjusted my position in the chair and farted. I could tell it was going to be bad, it seeped out slowly, the gas burning my sphincter as it exited, but nothing prepared me for what I was about to smell. The most heinous stench filled my nostrils. I desperately tried to inhale as much of the gas as I could so it would not spread. I had time, as she still hadn’t made her way to the toilet yet. To my horror, she started walking back towards me, somehow forgetting her original mission. I got up, walked towards her, in the hope that the majority of the gas had left my trousers and I would leave the rest behind me. My hasty movement toward her left a vacuum behind me, which was filled with all of the polluted bowel smell and followed me straight toward her. I could smell wiffs of it as she embraced me. I muttered “watch out I just farted” but I’m not sure she comprehended what I said. Her other senses were sure to explain to her what had happened...