Cyan wrapped their arms tightly around Kevin’s broad chest, nuzzled the back of his neck, and whispered, “I love you.” To Cyan’s surprise, they felt Kevin’s body tense abruptly.

“Oh my god,” Kevin muttered.

“What?” Cyan asked tersely, anger swooping in to mask a sudden swell of anxiety as they drew back.

Kevin turned, unable to meet his fiance’s eyes. “I . . . I just farted.”

“You just . . .” Reflexively, Cyan sniffed, and then immediately regretted it. “Like right now?”

Kevin’s face had gone bright red, and he could barely meet Cyan’s eyes. “Right when you grabbed me.”

“So . . . right into my crotch,” Cyan said, nose now wrinkling involuntarily for multiple reasons.

As the fart cloud lingered around them, Kevin’s embarrassment only grew. He was just as revolted by the smell, but felt he just had to endure it as a sort of penance. “I’m so, so sorry,” he said.

Cyan folded their arms, giving their fiance a calm, appraising stare. Then a shrug. “That’s alright,” they said. “I’ll just fart in the bed tonight.”

“You’ll—” Kevin blinked rapidly, too surprised to be embarrassed. Then he saw the wide grin spreading across Cyan’s face.

Laughter, sudden, hearty, and pure.

“I love you too.”

* * *

Story by Gregory M. Fox


“For your great acts of service to the throne, I hereby dub thee—”


The flatulence echoed in the soon-to-be knight’s armor and resonated further in the vaulted stonework of the chamber. For a brief moment, the throne room was silent. Then a cough. Then a series of chuckles.

“Laugh not!” the king warned, glaring sternly over the assembled nobles. “For who among us is not made of flesh and blood and thus prone to any and all of its weaknesses. And yet it is by sacrifice of the selfsame flesh and blood that this man has demonstrated that nobility too is woven into the very fabric of his being. And it is for that reason, that I name him—”


This time no pause preceded the laughter, but it was once more silenced by the commanding presence of the young king. “Who among us smells ever fragrant? What mortal heart has never been besmirched by some foul thought or deed. Yet by the grace of God are we redeemed. And with that same grace I now elevate this squire to—”


“Sorry m’lord.”

“I give up,” the king sighed. “Rise, sir Butts, a knight in the name of God.”

* * *

Story by Gregory M. Fox