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It’s four days from now, Syracuse Saturday.
There sit the fat and aging fellas in section 1 at Truist Field. Sportface sits in the middle flanked by Hanby on his left, and Mac on his right. Extending from there sit Sonny, Greenie, and Pistol Pete.
Sportface feels something rumbling in his belly. It’s something he needs to let go of. So he leans to his left a bit to give his buttocks some air space. And let’s one go to his left targeted at Hanby.
“Something stinks,” Hanby says. “Did you bust your ass, Sportface?”
“Sure did,” says Sportface. “That’s what you get for never hanging out with me even though I’m your next-door neighbor.”
“This is a classic reason I don’t hang out with you,” says Hanby. “You do stuff like this — farting at your friends at the football game.”
“Blame Sonny,” said Sportface. “He had us over to his house before the game and served us all mountains of chili. I chomped down four bowls. Chili causes me to pass gas so I figured I might as well throw some shade toward my college frat brother who avoids me all the time because he doesn’t want me to embarrass him in front of his Lake Norman bigwigs and because he doesn’t enjoy my company.”
As the stench billows into the Truist Field sky, it seems the smelly exchange may be over.
Not so.
Sonny’s having a turbulent time wrestling in his innards with the smelly chili he made. He turns towards Mac and lets one go – full-blown.
“Damn, Sonny,” says Mac. “You’re distracting me from the game. All II want to do is compartmentalize out everything I don’t want to think about or smell and now you’ve stunk up my grandstand experience. I know I shouldn’t have made this trip. It smelled like a bad idea all the way and now it smells like rotten chili. This stinks.”
Meanwhile, the fellas notice Greenie’s not with them watching the game. On the field, there’s a guy riding on the Demon Deacon motorcycle. He does a few wheelies, turns around, and drives out of the stadium tunnel.
“Greenie stole the motorcycle just like he steals everything at Wake Forest football games for the past four decades,” said Pete. “I wonder if Greenie’s farting on the motorcycle seat and burning the leather seat it’s so toxic. He heard he was at Sonny’s chili party.”
Off in the Truist Field parking lot, Greenie can be seen leaning off to the side of the seat to give himself air space to let a fart fly.
Back in the grandstands, the fellas have dispersed. Hanby abandoned his former friends and went up to the skybox to be with the donors mapping out name image and likeness donations to Wake Forest high school recruits. Mac moved to another section to be alone so he could watch the game in peace without having to smell Sonny’s chili.
Sonny and Sportface sit together, matching farts.
“Great chili, Sonny,” says Sportface.
“You smell,” says Sonny.
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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