(Part 1) [This week's "As the Pegasus Flies"] Joey the Pinhead got me again, thought Bernadette. That practical joker. Imagine that—a grown man running around the office with a whoopee cushion hidden behind his back. And Horace, there at the ready with his camera to document the moment. Yes, it was funny, and everyone always laughs when someone sits down without looking and ends up the butt of Joey's joke. But with Bernadette it was different. It struck a nerve. It hurt her on a personal, shameful level. Were they making fun of her? Did they know her dirty little secret—that she suffered from chronic, barely-controllable flatulence? She was able to keep it at bay at work, being that she worked alone in her office, ate lunch solo as often possible, and excused herself during meetings or conversations if she felt an attack coming on. It was a hard, lonely, odorous life, her lifelong problem continually eating away at her self-confidence. A long-term relationship with a man (or woman, for that matter) was out of the question. Just the thought of being intimate with a man made her problem worse. Stress did funny things to the body. Maybe her co-workers didn't know her secret; maybe she was just another victim of Joey's pranks. Maybe there was no hidden meaning to him choosing her. Should she just come clean with everyone and reveal her problem publicly? It would take a load off her shoulders, and people could then accept her for who she was. No, she decided, she'd continue to sit on her secret. No one knew her problem. Best to just keep things as they were. She couldn't open herself up to that humiliation.
(Part 2) We call her Boom-Boom Bernadette, though not to her face of course. I, Joey the Pinhead Shark Bait, bought a whoopee cushion for my ten year-old nephew. It was so much fun I picked one up for myself. The boys here (I'm talking about my crew—Horace, William, and Tommy Four Eyes) dared me to get Bernadette, and I was up to the challenge. But I also wondered, How will I even know if I'm successful? How will I know if it's the whoopee cushion producing the noise, or the real thing? Ha ha. Just kidding. I felt bad doing it, but if I didn't get her, and got everyone else, that would be worse. Right? Like I was excluding her on purpose. The omission would be worse than the inclusion. It would mean I knew about her "secret." She has convinced herself no one is aware of her problem—but we are. That's why I feel bad. I'm a prankster, but not a total jerk. I like Bernadette, and I want to rectify my bad deed. The girls around the office have wanted to set up lonely Boom-Boom with different men over the years, but she has always resisted with one excuse or another. Now it's my turn to play matchmaker! See, the trick is, you have to match her with someone who understands her. Who feels her pain. Her gas pain! Seriously, there's this new guy, Sheldon, who works in customer service. His pants are a little too high off the ground, his glasses are a little too thick, and I can't tell if the grease in his hair is natural or out of a bottle. But he has a great personality! I'm going to work my magic and get them together. You'll see. The meeting should be explosive! They'll hear fireworks! Man, I should be playing the Catskills. Don't forget to tip your waitress, folks!
(Part 3) Sheldon parked the car in front of Bernadette's apartment building in Mt. Kisco. It took him several tries to parallel park, hitting the curb twice, and tapping the bumper of the car behind him once; he hoped she wasn't watching from her window. The thought then hit him: he'd now have to get OUT of the spot once Bernadette got in the car. This caused a profusion of sweat and an outburst of flatulence. He rolled down the window with the hope that the car would air out while he went and rang her doorbell. He waved his hand to disperse the noxious gas. Meanwhile, Bernadette was inside her apartment, watching from the window. She had gas pains, and was glad for this brief respite, hoping to relieve herself before he came to the door, so she wouldn't have to worry about making a bad first impression. She saw him waving, and thought he meant for her to come out. Well, that was rude! He wouldn't even get out of the car, she had to go to him? At least he wasn't beeping the horn. Back in the car, Sheldon flailed his arms frantically. The smell wasn't leaving! Please god, make a breeze! He accidentally hit the horn, which was like a slap to his face, bringing him back to his senses. He had to get a grip on himself! He took a deep breath (which wasn't a very good idea) and opened the door. Bernadette was coming down her walk now, and they met halfway. They awkwardly went to shake hands and kiss at the same time. Then they walked to the car, and Sheldon opened the passenger door for her. She got in and crinkled her nose at the still-lingering smell, while he shut her door and ran around to his side. "And we're off!" he said. Then he proceeded to back up, pull forward, back up, pull forward two inches at a time, working the clutch hard, so as not to hit the curb or another car this time. "Maybe you should let me drive," Bernadette said. "No, no, I got it." The car finally made it out of the spot with a loud fart of a backfire. This broke the ice, and both Bernadette and Sheldon burst out laughing. It was the beginning of a great first date.
(Part 4) Bernadette had been disappointed many times in the past. Every time she thought she had a legitimate chance at love, it ended horribly. The ridicule. The name-calling. The gas attacks. The low self confidence. The self-flagellation. Or should that be self-flatulation? But this time it felt different. For some reason she believed Joey the Pinhead when he sang Sheldon's praises. On a whim she agreed to the blind date. Turns out, he was a squeaker too. The first clue was when he requested a table near the restrooms at the restaurant. Convenience was always key. Actually that was the second clue, the first being the distinctive odor in his car. She felt herself warming to Sheldon over dinner (Joey was right—Sheldon did have a great personality). She sensed a kindred spirit. Someone with her sense of humor. Someone she could really TALK to. And he lived right near her, only one town over! What are the odds? Usually with her luck, he would've lived half-way across the country and was just here temping. After the restaurant, they got back in the car and just drove around enjoying each other's company, neither wanting to call it a night. They were having so much fun! Eventually, and probably out of habit, they found themselves back on the RD campus. Sheldon slowed the car, not knowing where to go. Bernadette surprised herself when she said, "I know where Ethel keeps the key for the Guest House." She immediately felt herself blush. Sheldon turned the car toward the Guest House. Without another word they got out of the car and walked over to the back door. "It's right here," Bernadette said, reaching under a planter by the door. A moment later they were inside. Bernadette whispered, "Don't turn on a light." "Okay. We can use my Zippo." By the faint glow of Sheldon's lighter, they found their way upstairs to a bedroom. Bernadette was excited about her first time, though the gas from the food that she ate at dinner what starting to move around painfully in her stomach. Her nervousness didn't help. She hoped for some alone time first. Maybe they could find a bathroom. Meanwhile, Sheldon was having severe gas pains of his own...
(Part 5) [The explosive conclusion to this week's "As the Pegasus Flies"] Chappaqua, N.Y.—This sleepy hamlet was awoken last night by the sound of an explosion, followed by the roar of fire trucks and the shriek of their sirens as they raced to the scene of the disaster. The destination was the grounds of publishing giant Reader's Digest. The iconic building was undamaged. Flames had a good hold on a two-story guest house, however, where the explosion took place. The cause of the explosion is still unknown, though a natural gas leak is suspected. Chappaqua Fire Chief Joe Blanchard speculated that something as innocent as lighting a post-coital cigarette could cause an explosion if a large amount of gas was already present in the room. Miraculously, two unidentified people survived the blast. A man and woman were hanging from a nearby tree, wearing nothing but bed sheets. Apparently their clothes had been blown off by the sheer force of the blast. A Reader's Digest employee who calls himself Lorenzo found the victims and calmed them until the firefighters could arrive to rescue them. When asked what he was still doing at work at such a late hour, the man said, "Non capisco l'inglese." Fire trucks were still hosing down hotspots this morning as employees returned for another day at work on the best-selling consumer magazine in the United States.
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