Murray's

One day, quite a few years ago, Bruce asked me to go to Murray's with him. I had been a little ill and he thought it may do me good to get out. My problem had been a lower intestine issue.
Murray's was not my first choice of places to go, but Bruce needed to get something for the car and just about insisted that I go with him.
Bruce found his item then found a rack with books on it about the car we owned. He decided to peruse the inventory.
I wandered down the aisle to the far end and relieved my insides of a rather insistent gas bubble. Having been ill, it smelled pretty bad - o.k., down right evil. I wandered back up to where Bruce was and asked if we could go. He said he was reading something. I looked back down the aisle and saw a little stock boy happily turning the corner into the aisle where I had just relieved myself. He had his arms full of merchandise to be put away. Right there. In the little cloud I had left.
I grabbed Bruce's arm and said we needed to go - again. Again, he refused.
I stole a look down at the hapless little guy and saw him suck in the air and emit a choking sound. He kind of turned a sick color.
I grabbed Bruce's arm again and said we MUST leave. Bruce got aggravated at my insistance and asked why. I said, "Because I just farted down there and the little guy who breathed it in is blaming YOU."
Sure enough. Bruce was getting glared at. Amazingly, Bruce closed the book and we left.