The Smell in the Cinema

As soon as the light went out, the whispering started.
Everyone was murmuring about who might’ve farted.
The smell was strong and needed blame placed,
Even if someone might have to lose face.

The commercials and previews were very loud:
Preface to a movie someone might hope to shroud
The fact that they had passed an aroma, a smell
That could have originated in the annals of hell.

My friends shared soft words while pointing, laughing
At the fat guy before them that they think did the gassing.
In the dark cinema, I’m glad I can’t be seen.
My face is flushed red ‘cause of my friends: they’re mean.

The fat guy stirs ahead as he clearly hears the giggles.
I feel more uncomfortable. In my seat, I start to wiggle.
After too much time, I finally stand and shout,
“It was me who farted! I let the gas out!”

My friends are shocked, amazed, and even taken aback.
I sit in my seat and stare forward, at the fat guy’s back.
From this angle, I can tell he’s smiling and thankful
For me claiming someone’s gas to stop my friends from being hateful.

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