Magic Chair

I'm in the computer lab when I feel that familiar rumbling below my belly. I have to rip one. Big time.
It hurts so bad that I know if I stand up it'll force its way out.
So I'm stuck there struggling against an imminent fart in a room full of people.

I look around at my peers there in the computer lab.
If any of them are under similar pressures, they aren't showing it.

I decide to squeeze out the littlest bit. Just to take the edge off of the pain. It's risky and I know it.
When something is that eager to escape, opening the door is ill-advised.

I very carefully release my grip on the beast.

Oh shit! That was way bigger than planned! I feverishly try to look like somebody who didn't just fart in public.
I'm writing with my right hand and typing with my left. I'm reading the monitor and a book at the same time.
My furrowed brow only hints at the wealth of activity taking place in my mind.
It should be inconceivable that somebody this involved can also be farting.

But wait a minute. That thing didn't make a sound. I didn't hear a whisper of what felt like a hearty,
burrito-induced ass clap. I've been spared (clearly) by the fart muffling technology of the computer lab chair.
I'm pleased and I see opportunty. If the chair can muffle that much, it can muffle a little more.

Blinded by the relief the first fart provided, I push the limits of the chair with the second one.
The duration is short but the flow rate is massive. It feels like POW! but it sounds like...

Silence.

This chair is truly amazing! I felt those vibrations up and down my back, but I didn't hear a single note of it.
At this point I could safely stand up and walk out to take care of the rest in private, but why bother?
This chair cannot be overcome.

I let it all go, and I mean I am going for the gold with this one. A broadening smile forms across my face
as the backs of my legs are vibrated into numbness. I can feel my ass cheeks slapping together with great force,
almost painfully, yet the chair absorbs all. The suddenly empty feeling of my stomach is surprisingly satisfying.

I return my hands, which had been braced against the desk throughout the tumultuous fart, to the arm rests
of this marvelous chair. I triumphantly lean back, pleased with what I've gotten away with.

That's when I realize I am wearing headphones.

There's nothing special about the chair. "Country Grammar" is blaring in my ears. I look again at my peers
in the computer lab. They are all looking back at me. People are leaning around computer monitors
just to cast a disgusted look in my direction. There are three girls in my same row;
each wears a different expression of horror.