Take this as a cautionary tale as it arose from actual happenings. Be warned, it’s not for the faint of heart. I was but a child, innocent and yet unsullied by a harsh world. My mother, my “supposed” caretaker was transporting my sibling and myself one frigid day, to what I recall as a errand of unimportance. I had moments earlier complained that my growing frame required sustenance and pleaded for a stop at the local drive through eatery. With my request denied, I pondered my fate. And then, like a ray of light…to my nose, I sniffed such a delight. Was it, stew? No no, close though, stew-like…or potato! Another sniff now, deeper this time. Oh yes, I smelled FRENCH FRIES! “Mother!” I exclaimed, “where did you get french fries!?” As I drew the savory odors past the minuscule receptors in my nasal passage, as if in a dream, I heard my mother begin to chortle. It started low and sinister, then escalated to a crazed roar. Just then, my terrified mind realized what the beast-woman had done. It was not french fries at all but a trap set by my mothers foul intestines. Like the sirens song it called me to it’s rocky shores. Yes, It was a fart and it smelled like…death. I came to in the back of an ambulance and knew from that day forth, to treat all smells as potential hazards.