Flash Fiction

Bradford was half way through his pint when he felt it coming. It built slowly, eventually he could no longer contain it. The fart ripped between his cheeks, bounced off the chair and echoed loudly around the oak lined bar. Colin, the barman, and the few other lunchtime customers turned their heads sharply. Bradford, who had a mouthful of beer, attempted to apologise. What actually happened was a decibel shattering belch. The air was rich with multiple unctuous odours. Bradford flushed. The lunchtime drinkers as one, got up leaving Bradford alone to his miasma. Colin, the now reluctant barman, vomited.