I’m innocent by Celia woodruff
I’m innocent!
Rising from an unknown corner, it wafted up without warning. It always did! Twitching nostrils gave the game away, as the aroma reached my nose. It could only be one thing. Just one accomplished movement which assailed the senses, causing her companions to cough and splutter or reach for their pretty white lace hankies and delicately avoid the unavoidable.
The trouble was that it always happened when we sat down with our guests to afternoon tea. That delicious, yes scrumptious time of the day was caught up in the drama of not quite knowing whether we would need to apologise, sympathise, empathise or simply pretend it hadn’t happened. Was there a hint of the boiled cabbage we had for lunch perhaps? Or was it the rotten egg in a long forgotten egg box which had slipped to the back of the larder cupboard? No, neither of those this time: So it must have been the slightly overripe camembert in the fridge, the aroma of which must have escaped when I was taking the clotted cream out for the scones.
No, not that either but excuses for embarrassing smells are always a useful cover up! Especially when old Mrs Fox had made some very peculiar noises when she bustled in to take tea with us today. But who is this? Just at the appropriate moment, I felt a soft, warm muzzle under the table. And with a swish of her tail and another musical toot, our black labrador, Mabel, pushed her wet nose out from under the soft green tablecloth, wagged her tail delighted at all the attention she had gained and set off for the open back door and the fresh air of the garden.
More tea, Vicar? Having a story about an aroma is a neat way of dealing with the no visuals exercise.
Delicately written Celia, even if the subject matter is not!
I’m reminded of a cartoon that appeared in Punch in the Sixties: At a dinner party: “Gad sir, you’ve just farted in front of my wife” Reply: “Sorry old chap, I didn’t realise it was her turn.”
I loved this. Always apologising for the dog even when suspicions lie elsewhere!
Simon says:This is a neat little piece of entertainment which certainly fulfils the brief. And it’s an example of a polite situation being disrupted by something rather impolite. The ‘lace hankies’ and ‘afternoon tea’ tell us all we need to know about the formality of the occasion. It reminded me of the anonymous limerick:
I sat next to the Duchess at tea.
It was just as I feared it would be:
Her rumblings internal
Were something infernal –
And everyone thought it was me!
Except, of course, here the stakes are higher. The suggestion is out there that the offence is worse than stomach rumbling, that someone might have actually broken wind in polite society. The threat is decorously managed, as is the pay-off, in which the true culprit is revealed. I like humour of this kind, where the reader is encouraged to fear the worst, and the writer’s purity of intention is ultimately vindicated and it’s the reader who is left feeling slightly guilty for leaping to the wrong conclusion. It’s a very useful comic device, which can be used in endless variations.