You choked on your breath, the air thick with something almost tactile. Your lungs itched. Bonnie’s latest release hadn’t just lingered—it sunk. You could taste it.
The fart had weight. It was dense, humid, and rank—a stifling blend of ammonia-heavy piss, melted plastic, and the distinct, stomach-churning reek of boiled eggs left to rot in sun. There was a hint of rusted meat in it, like spoiled hot dogs abandoned in a back alley dumpster and left to ooze. And somehow, underneath it all, a synthetic sweetness clung to the back of your throat—like aerosol cake frosting mixed with scorched rubber.
It filled your nose and stayed, curling into your sinuses like mold-infested insulation.
You turned, gagging, eyes stinging, and ran.
The arcade room twisted as you sprinted—machines spinning past in flashes of cracked screens and flickering reds and blues. You didn’t even know if you were heading for the door—just away. Away from that thick, clinging stench that now clung to your clothes, your skin, your memory.
Bonnie’s laughter followed you, metallic and slow, like a drumline running out of batteries.
“You won’t get far,” he called. “You think anyone locked the exits? This place is ours after hours…”
You slammed into a side door. Locked.
Spun. Tried the next one.
Also locked.
The hallway yawned ahead, the glowing EXIT sign flickering at the far end like it was mocking you. The air was marginally clearer here, but your lungs were still slick with residue. Every breath pulled more of that fetid bouquet back into your system: sulfur, singed wool, microwave-burned cheese, and… was that old fish sauce?
Your stomach lurched. You stumbled forward, coughing hard, trying not to throw up. Behind you, the heavy footfalls of Bonnie drew closer.
“I thought you liked the arcade,” he said. Another BRMMMMMPHHHHH tore through the air behind you. This one was sharper—more acrid, like raw onions mixed with expired cottage cheese and a whiff of propane.
You gagged mid-run.
The floor was starting to warp—your eyes blurry, legs heavy. Was it just the air, or was something in it?
You lunged for the security hallway, barely dodging a wall of shelving. You didn’t look back. Couldn’t.
You just ran.
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