500: An Anthology of Short Stories

Nero’s deep slumber was abruptly and unceremoniously wrecked by a most distinctly redolent aroma. The Siamese cat raised his head slightly from Beulah’s luxuriously comfortable lap.

“Oops, I beg your pardon, Nero,” Beulah apologized to the feline, her cheeks burning scarlet in chagrin.

Nero sniffed the still fragrant air, catching a whiff of a maelstrom of scents. Most prominent in the odorous miasma was the unmistakable smell of oranges. No, wait. The cat sniffed more carefully the better to catch the elusive bouquet. Ah, yes; not oranges, but a mandarin. Then there were the usual suspects of an essence of boiled egg, a strong tincture of tongue and a blast of beans.

“I don’t know what’s happening to my body right now. Oh dear,” Beulah said in frantic frenzy. She shifted her buttocks so that she could raise the left one slightly before she let off a rather loud and extended blare. Beulah’s face turned a deeper shade of crimson in shame.

“Thank heavens I live alone or I could never live this down,” Beulah exclaimed, having long ago fallen into the habit of speaking to her cat as if he were a human companion.

Nero adjusted his position as Beulah spoke to him; he uncurled lazily, made a few rotations on her lap, then snuggled down again in the depression he had previously created. He wrapped his long tail around himself and rested his head on top of the tip of his tail.

Just as he was about to slip off into a bird-chasing adventure, he was assaulted by another cloud of foul vapors. This time though, the pong was perniciously putrid.

“Oooh, that’s a bit of a stink, isn’t it, Nero?” Beulah said as she heaved herself up from her armchair, in the process dislodging a protesting Nero.

“My entire abdomen hurts. I think I need to let off some more steam,” she added before a monumentally long fart escaped her. It sounded like a trumpet going off in a disharmonious blast.

Nero had had enough. With a loud meow of annoyance and a hiss of fury, the cat sprinted out of the lounge to the bedroom.

“I think I’ll turn in. Perhaps lying down in bed will soothe my flatulence,” Beulah reasoned to herself.

While she was brushing her teeth, a melody of malodorous fumes escaped into the air. As Beulah dressed in her PJs, a veritable concertina of cheeky squeaks accompanied her actions.

“Well, time for Mama to get into bed and smother these odoriferous farts,” Beulah confided to Nero, who was lying curled up at the foot of her bed.

“Fair warning though. If you crawl under the blankets with me, don’t blame me if you get knocked out.”

Nero raised his head, extremely irked. Staring at his flatulent human, he expelled a soft sigh of sufferance before gracefully bounding off the bed.

“No cat worth his pelt would ever suffer death by odiferous clouds,” he silently told himself as he exited the reeking room.