Russian Poolette!!

I have, once before, sharted at work and had a hell of a time cleaning it up, but this happened today so I thought I’d share.
You know when you fart and you think it could be wet, so you wiggle a bit in your pants to feel if there’s some moisture bouncing back between your bum cheeks? I’ll have you know, that’s not a fail-safe plan.
At 10am I farted. It felt awkward. I wiggled. Then reached loosely into my pants and found nothing.
At 11am I smelled something. So I checked again. I wiggled. This time, it was damp. I reached a hand down and it was...poo.
A whole hour I had been stewing in my own excrement unbeknown to the horrors that lay below. An hour with the stench creeping into trousers and making its way slowly up towards my face, where the dense compilation of odorous particles silently swam up into my nostrils, providing a slight but shameful confession.
I just sighed. It happens all too often when I ‘test the waters.’ More often than not, I find more than water. It has gotten to the point where some might say I have a problem. I see it as an obsession with a dangerous game I like to call, Russian Poolette. You always know you have the same chance of getting shot or shart, but you play for the thrill of it.
I cleaned it off immediately. And tomorrow, when the challenge is upon me again, I will not shy away. Never.