You don’t remember how you ended up in the hospital, but apparently you’re in some real trouble. Theirs some sort of plastic bubble airlock over the door to your room. It’s a less-than-subtle hint you’re under some sort of quarantine. You hope you don’t have Ebola; that would be just your fucking luck.
The man in the hazmat suit standing on the side of your bed tells you he’s a doctor – your doctor. When you ask about the elevated security conditions in your room, the doctor sighs and says you your condition is quite serious. Even with some pressing, he seems hesitant to tell you the full extent of your condition.
“Damn it, doc,” you shout, slamming a hand onto the bed, “give it to me straight. I deserve to know.”
The doctor gulps and his eyes dart side to side for a moment before he answers. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dabney, you…”
His head sinks; he seems unable to meet your gaze.
“Spit it out, doc!” you demand.
Mustering every ounce of his courage, the doctor looks you in the eye and shouts, “Mr. Dabney you smell like farts!”
“What?” you reply indignantly. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You smell like big nasty butt farts, Mr. Dabney. Huge soggy muddy anus explosions. I wanted your family here when you were told, but you were so damn insistent.”
“I really don’t appreciate the humor under these circumstances, doc.”
“Were that it was merely a joke, Mr. Dabney. No, I’m afraid I’m quite serious. You smell so thoroughly and tremendously like the colon gas of a fat man who’s been eating nothing but Taco Bell and broccoli for eight weeks that anyone who enters into a twenty foot radius of you without protective equipment passes out.”
“What the hell kind of hospital is this? If there’s nothing wrong with me I’m leaving. You’re insane!”
“I’m afraid we can’t let you leave, Mr. Dabney,” says the doctor before turning and walking toward the airlock. “Your horrible ass-odor is just too much of a danger to the public right now. We’ll continue to attempt to treat you, but the prognosis isn’t great. I’ll check on you later.”
“Doc, wait!” you call after the doctor, reaching out an arm as if trying to touch him. “What I have…what is it called?”
“I’ve never seen a condition so completely farty, Mr. Dabney. We don’t have a name for it yet. I hope we never do.”