In a silk and suit soiree where an evening bag is more
expensive than some gentleperson’s home, a guest
cuts the cheese. Awkward thirty seconds elapse
quicker than one can say, now-who-was-that?
Stink evaporates easily in such set-ups.
Compare this to a cab on fixed fare where at random
a passenger cuts one, trapping others in the clutch oven.
The cooped are in a tizzy, all with conspiratorial looks, cheeks
rubricated by circumstance. The strongest agitator is usually
the culprit. Some like to have a shindig with their smell.