They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Nope. It’s best served steaming hot and thick with fumes.

That’s what we learned from the following story, posted anonymously in a Reddit thread asking that immortal question: “What is your silent, unseen act of personal defiance?”

I’m gonna fart on this kid’s head. Watch and learn.

Note that we’re not endorsing any of the behavior depicted in this story. In a perfect world, no one would wield their digestive tract like a judge’s gavel, or, worse, the executioner’s ax. But we don’t live in a perfect world, do we?

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We edited this story for grammar and readability. We sort of wish we had edited it for content, too, but, hey, you’re the one who clicked on the headline. Check out this tale of misbehavior, vigilantism, and burrito-fueled vengeance.

Oh, and next time you’re considering throwing a fit in the aisles of your local department store? Remember: This guy could be just around the corner.

This story takes place in an unidentified Target…maybe even the one in your neighborhood.

“I’m about 6’7”, so even when I’m just trying to be friendly (i.e., not farting on a strange kid’s head) and meeting a family member’s or friend’s kid for the first time, I’ve noticed they get very ‘hide-between-their-mothers’-legs’ intimidated on sight if I’m not sitting down,” wrote RubyRhod, the hero of this particular revenge fable. “So it’s not hard for me to silence/intimidate a child, especially when I’m trying to.”

“However, a few times I’ve been called out. One time I was … with a friend at a Target buying Risk (and no, we never finished playing the whole game).”

“This little 5- to 7-year-old was being an insufferable little s*** in the action figure section. I heard him from like five aisles over, and it was like nails on a chalkboard. I tell my friend, ‘I’m gonna fart on this kid’s head. Watch and learn.’”

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“I saunter on over to the aisle in question and see the vile little p**** calling his mom an ‘idiot’ for not buying him a huge f***ing G.I. Joe The Movie vehicle (which p***ed me off even more, considering how awful that movie was. Buy some good toys!).”

The kid’s choice in toys is far from his only crime.

“‘I already bought that one for you, and you broke it by throwing it down the stairs,’ [the mom said.]”

“‘Shut up,’ [said the kid.] ‘I need it. It’s the only one I don’t have now.’”

“The mother was younger than me (I’m mid-twenties) and gave a defeated look.”

“‘I don’t have enough money right now,’ [she said.]”

“‘You are an idiot!’ [the kid said,] and continued to just berate and publicly shame this woman.”

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“At the time, I was on a strict Chipotle carnitas burrito diet. And while I was watching all this, my stomach gave me an initial warning gurgle (very courteous stomach), telling me I was about an hour away from punishing the toilet. Serendipity! Destiny!”

“I inch a bit closer to my prey, inspecting some wrestling toys.”

“The kid shouts, ‘F*** you. I hate you!’

This is the vigilante’s cue to get into position.

“The mom rolls her eyes and turns her back to the kid to ignore him. And could you believe it, the kid gets on his hands and knees and starts taking the toy out of the box. It’s go time, motherf****er.”

“I position my back towards him, and at this point [I] am like two feet away from him. His head is down. [He’s] getting frustrated with those … twisty-tie things, and I go for the kill.”

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“I bend down to reach for the one of the toys on the lower shelf. At this point, my a** is inches away from this kid’s head.”

“Now, generally speaking, the best way to go about this is to act casual, drop your belly bomb, then walk away after a few seconds like nothing is out of the ordinary. I usually go one aisle over and listen to the kid’s reaction in delight.”

“However, today, I couldn’t help myself. I have my head tilted back, looking at this kid out of the corner of my eye to ensure accuracy.”

“I’m so close that from a distance it looks like I’m about to sit on him.”

At this point in the drama, a momentary distraction compounds the danger for our antihero.

“My friend sees this happening and can no longer contain himself. He’s covering his mouth, but his ‘hee-haw’ hyperventilating donkey chortle is fairly audible over the late-90’s pop muzak playing on the loudspeakers.”

“The kid immediately looks up towards the laughter, but can’t help but notice there is an a** now directly in his face. Now, I’m trying not to laugh, but also panicking, as I just made eye contact with him.”

It went from a joyous, dry air-horn squeal to a nefarious, hissing mephitis.

“He furls his brow, and I look over in the mother’s direction, still [with her] back towards us. I relish the moment and the look on this child’s confused and naive face.”

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“The initial blast was mighty and boisterous. I swear I saw his hair blowing in the wind (so to speak). If I wasn’t wearing jeans, I think it could have probably blown over an empty soda can.”

“I would call it ‘a very fun fart’ (A-double-plus, would buy again). However, what immediately followed that out [of] the chamber was truly horrifying. The fart’s implication changed without notice, and swiftly.”

“It went from a joyous, dry air-horn squeal to a nefarious, hissing mephitis.”

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Editor’s note: Webster’s defines “mephitis” as “a noxious, pestilential, or foul exhalation of the earth.” It’s a strong synonym of “stench.” So there’s your vocab word for the day! Anyway, let’s see what the kid does when he realizes he’s just entered an unholy cloud.

“I think the little moppet noticed the hateful metamorphosis before even I did, because he wrenched his neck violently trying to get away from the personified evil being fumigated into his soul.”

There was no escape.

“Because of his positioning (hovering over the toy, [on his] hands and knees), it was all in vain, as the only way out was forward…and forward would mean certain death.”

“I had positioned myself well on the higher ground, free to escape or relent at any time and him, poor and immobilized, biding his time until the cruel attack was over. Obviously, this child needed to re-read Sun Tzu.”

Editor’s note: The speaker is here referring to the 5th-century BC military treatise The Art of War, by Sun Tzu (sometimes rendered in English as “Sunzi.”) In chapter nine of this work, section 11, Sun Tzu does indeed tell would-be commanders that, “All armies prefer high ground to low and sunny places to dark.” (This is in Lionel Giles’ translation, courtesy of MIT’s Internet Classics Archive.)    

By invoking this classic work on military tactics, RubyRhod widens the comedic gap between the sometimes martial, faux-serious tone of his report and its low-comedy subject matter. And speaking of low comedy, the speaker hasn’t finished describing his fart:  

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“In total, it lasted about four seconds, but for that kid, it must have seemed like time was frozen. The long-term severe brain damage which he no doubt suffered only added to that effect.”

“When I finished with my [business] (i.e., forcing a little boy to huff my farts), there was a silent, pregnant pause. The kid was clearly shocked and stunned. No one had ever stood up to this dwarf sociopath in his whole life.”

“I had taken the words out of his mouth and filled it with fart.”

“I make my move first, picking up the toy I was ‘reaching for’ off the low shelf, take a few steps forward and stare at it for a few seconds. On ‘two alligator,’ the only thing the kid could manage to do was burst into tears.”

“My friend senses … that the jig is up, and [he] darts for cover. The mom turns around to see her kid with an open toy, crying on the floor, and me minding my own business.”

“She walks up to him and asks what’s wrong, but the kid can’t speak. All he gets out is, ‘BAWAWAAAWAFARTBAWAWA.’”

“It [takes] every fiber in my body not to laugh. I put the toy back on a middle shelf, turn around, give a final nonchalant look-see, and then begin to take my exit.”

“Sensing that his assailant [is] getting away scot-free, he somehow manage[s] to compose himself for a moment. He shouts, ‘He farted on me!’

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“I could feel him pointing at me, but I continued to act like I was just browsing. I was almost around the corner when the mom goes, ‘Excuse me. Sir. Sir!’”

“I turn around nonplussed.”

Editor’s note: RubyRhod seems to be using the newer, primarily American definition of the adjective “nonplussed,” meaning “not bothered, surprised, or impressed by something,” as Webster’s has it.  

This is something of a corruption of usage. In its original form, the adjective “nonplussed” meant something closer to “perplexed,” as in, “unsure about what to say, think, or do.” In fact, the term arises from the Latin non plus, meaning no more.” The Oxford English Dictionary reportedly gets closer to this original definition: “A state in which no more can be said or done; inability to proceed in speech or action; a state of perplexity or puzzlement; a standstill.”

Of course, this is no time to wade into the prescriptive vs. descriptive grammar debate. You know what the writer means by “nonplussed,” and that’s good enough for us. Besides, didn’t someone just fart on someone else’s head, here?

“‘Uh…who? Me?’ [I say] while pointing to myself.”

“‘Yes. Did you just fart on my son?’”

There’s a question you hope you never have to answer.

“Weighing my options, I played dumb. ‘What? I mean, I did fart,’ I say.”

“‘On my son?’”

“‘Well, I mean, technically speaking…I mean…what is ‘on?’”

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“‘Why did you fart on my son?’”

“At this point, the little kid has the look of schadenfreude on his face, happy to see me in trouble. F*** you, I’m a man! I will fart on you if I please!”

“I turn my attention to the little kid and stare at him, saying, ‘Because the whole store could hear him being a little, rotten a****** to his mother, so I thought I’d come over here and treat him like one.’”

“The mom looks at me, her son, and the scattered GI Joe/wrappers/box on the floor. The mom is puzzled as to what to do and says, ‘Just…just go.’”

Our purveyor of street justice isn’t out of danger yet.

“That’s my cue! I turn around, [and] walk away with [a] little extra step. I look up to see the black orb of security cameras and all the stories on Reddit about unjustly having to register as an offender flash before my eyes.”

“As soon as I turn the corner, I book it outside as fast as I can, while dialing my friend. Like a true friend, he is right out front with the engine running and Risk in the trunk.”

“We laugh on the car ride back about the whole scene. With a slight hint of seriousness in his tone, my friend asks me, ‘Do you do that a lot?’”

“‘Ahhh, not that much,’” I say. “‘Like once every six months or so.’”

“We both knew I was lying. We got to our other friend’s house and played Risk until 4:00 in the morning. Overall, I would say it was a preeeetay, preeeeetay [sic] good day.”

So what have we learned?

First off, no one ever finishes a game of Risk. The game is unfinishable. Secondly, we have a new word to describe the air that blows from the office refrigerator: mephitis.   

Perhaps most importantly, though, this story’s moral is that obnoxious, entitled kids don’t always get away with their misdeeds. Sometimes, a hero rises—a hero with a lot of fiber in his diet.

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As with any other superhero, though, we don’t recommend you try this vigilante stuff out on your own. Passing gas is not a trustworthy weapon. Too often, it, uh, misfires. It…um…turns on the user. You know?

Look, what we’re trying to say is that this guy could just as easily have soiled himself in the Target toy aisle, and no act of revenge is worth that fate. So kudos for the effort and all, but you won’t catch us trying to emulate the teller of this tale any time soon.

The path of the righteous is narrow and generally does not involve weaponized flatulence. Generally.     

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