Not guilty

I was sitting in a pew in court. The courtroom was cavernous with high ceilings. And numerous lawyers sat with their brief cases, donning their charcoal, pinstripe or navy suits. As we all waited for the judge, it was silent, save for the sound of hushed voices and the clicking of keys on Crackberries.

Then my stomach emitted a growl.

Now normally, a stomach growl in a huge cavernous courtroom is only a bit embarrassing. "Wow someone is hungry" is the first thought a person will have upon hearing a stomach growl.

Except this single growl wasn't a normal typical growl. It was a humongo, low, deep, guttural growl.

In other words, it sounded like a fart.

The growl echoed throughout the room for probably about twenty seconds straight. People shifted uncomfortably in their seats and the man next to me avoided eye contact with me. It was pretty bad. I had actually felt the wooden pew vibrate as my stomach unforgivingly made its faux fart.

At that moment, I flipped open my phone, hoping I could pass it off as my cell phone ringing in vibrate mode. Maybe they'll buy it, I thought delusionally to myself.

Maybe not, as I heard a young male attorney snicker in the next row, peering at me over his shoulder.

And so I did what any other person in the wake of a recently emitted fart, growl and/or faux-fart-growl would do. Pretend that it didn't happen. Remain composed. And look around innocently as if to proclaim to the world: "It wasn't me."