n2rjt's Journal: Fart Dust

Jim and I had the same sense of humor.
Whenever I'd enter the ham shack at lunchtime, he'd offer me a chair. He'd pull one of the stools away from the lab bench and say, "Can I offer you a stool sample?"
Then he'd hit the cloth upholstry on top of the stool hard with his hand a few times. A small but noticable cloud of dust would rise from the cloth. He'd point at it and explain, "Fart dust."
Jim doesn't hang out in the shack anymore, and I've moved far away. In case you read this, Jim, it was real, and it was fun. But it wasn't real fun.