I wish that fart of mine in 7th grade had been just a false alarm. But instead I laughed nervously then snuck away. I then unwisely tried cleaning that garment instead of just throwing it away and covering it up with paper towels in the trash, which would turn out to be a way better idea -only about an hour and a half too late. Ohhh Tim Lehr. He had to have known my filthy secret by the time first hour let out. Lies and misdirection can only go so far when the kid was sitting a foot away from me.
"Did you fart again??"
"Oh.... uhhh, yeah, Tim, I farted...again."
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REGRET:
Jumping jacks in Mr. Sharp's third-grade gym class, wearing gray sweat pants. A strong urge to urinate. My young mind thinking the pee probably won't be visible since I'm wearing gray. Letting loose on jumping jack No. 10, let's say.
Mr. Sharp walking by, looking at me and saying incredulously: "Mr. Tait, what happened here?!"
All my classmates stopping, turning, looking at me. Snickers, giggling. Me getting sent -- wet pants and all -- to the principal's office where they apparently kept spare clothing for pants-wetting kids like me.
Later that night, I also we my bed, I'm sure of it.
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