Tony is an ass.
His friends all know he’s an ass.
His employees know he’s an ass.
His neighbors know he’s an ass.
His soon to be ex-wife, Eileen, knows better than anyone that he’s an ass.
Even Tony knows he’s an ass.
Of course, he doesn’t care.
The only person that doesn’t know that Tony is an ass, is his mother.
She calls him Antny.
Which is probably part of the reason Tony’s an ass.
Tony’s father taught him to always open a door for a woman, and let them walk through first. “You can’t see their ass Tone, if your walkin’ head of ’em.”
His father had a big part in Tony being an ass.

What God did not give Tony in the way of acumen, compassion, or personality, he made up for with the blessing of a physique like Michelangelo’s David, thick curly black hair, and a Travolta smile.

***

Tony’s mother would say that he had a delicate constitution. This was just a polite way of saying he was prone to fits of bad gas.

Early on, Eileen discovered that any combination of eggs and beer turned Tony gastroatomic. Hot dogs and beans had a similar effect, but were more offensive in smell, than say spinach, which was just loud. In reality there were any number of foods that made Tony fart.

One afternoon during a day trip to the Jersey shore, Tony and Eileen stopped for a mid-afternoon cocktail at one of the outdoor tiki-type bars that line the boardwalk. Eileen hadn’t finished her first umbrella drink and Tony was draining his third Corona when the volcano erupted.

Everyone has a fart slip out from time to time, but most people clench and hope that no one else notices.

But not Tony.

As the flatulence reached crescendo, Tony shifted all of his body weight to one cheek, which had the effect of increasing both volume and duration. When the ruckus had ceased, Tony announced loudly and proudly. “I think I might have had a bad fuckin’ clam.”

“Another Corona here please!”

Bad clam maybe, thought Eileen, more likely pork roll, Corona, and Swiss.

A couple sitting at the perpendicular leg of the bar had witnessed the entire show, but were stunned momentarily as their brains replayed a performance they could not reconcile, except perhaps from a Monty Python movie.

Once the reality registered, and they confirmed each other’s disbelief with a look, the woman tried to hold back a laugh and passed a mouthful of screwdriver through her nose.

Eileen was mortified.

Tony was oblivious.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Eileen announced with an urgency to flight.

As she stood up she was sickened even more when she noticed that Tony was displaying not less than four inches of butt crack.

She leaned over and whispered, “Tony, you need to pull up your pants, half your ass is showing.”

In not such a subtle tone he argued, “I don’t know Leenie, under the present circumstances, I don’t know if we want to risk blocking any air flow right now.”

Flabbergasted, screwdriver woman collected herself and offered her hand over the corner of the bar, introducing herself as Janet and her husband, Tom.

“I’m Tony.”

“Nice to fuckin’ meet ya.”

###

2015 Kirt Van Buren