The campus was picturesque, and it was an hour and a half south east of Los Angeles.
Many of my fellow students were either the children of the Hollywood elite, or children of wealthy parents from elsewhere.
One of my roommates was named Jack, and he was a wealthy kid from Connecticut.
Jack lived in a fantasy realm and would tell other students that he was trained in stick fighting and martial arts.
He would do “demonstrations” of his stick fighting, and threatened to hurt the staff if they tried to take away his weapon.
About a year into my time at the school, Jack and I wound up being roommates.
Jack and I lived in a four bedroom dorm room with two other students, and when Jack wasn’t having an episode of delusional fantasy, he was a pretty OK guy.
Anyway, one day some kids from another dorm were hanging out in our dorm, it was the end of the night and we were all joking around having a good time.
One of the kids from the other dorm told a joke, and we all started laughing. Everyone except for Jack.
Jack was sitting on the foot of his bed, shirtless, but with khakis on, and he had a wry little smile, like he had his own secret punchline.
Then I heard someone say “Oh, what the fuck is that?!” before they started to gag.
Unbeknownst to us, Jack had ripped a silent but deadly fart that had just reached its first victim.
Within seconds, the rest of us started gagging as the smell filled the room.
There was only one option at this point, to escape the surprise gas attack by evacuating our room.
Jack’s smile widened as we stumbled out the door and tripped over one another on the way out.
The dorm room opened directly to the outside, and we ran about 30 feet to a large set of stairs that went down a big hill.
When we got to the stairs, we were stopped by a couple of staff members who demanded to know why we were running.
We tried to tell them that Jack had farted so bad that we couldn’t stay in the dorm, but they didn’t believe us.
Then, they both started sniffing the air and one of them said “What the fuck is that?”.
We emphatically told them “It’s the fart!” but they still didn’t believe us.
From that day forward, whenever I told other students about the events of that night, I referred to the fart as “J-Force One”.
It’s been 25 years since that night, and I’ve never smelled a fart as horrendous. I’ll never know what he ate to cause that smell, but I do have a theory.
I believe that it was the result of a lifetime of eating foie gras, caviar, and various sorts of pate.
The human body isn’t meant to eat these foods routinely, and when consumed in excess, the body is overwhelmed by processing their byproducts.
I imagine he was filled with some kind of a digestive sludge that never really fully purged itself from his intestines.
There were elements of sulfuric rotten eggs, but it also smelled like rotten beef and fermented cabbage.
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