As the train neared the Fordham road stop, I felt the pressure of a growing mass of gas building in my colon. For a second it seemed like it might be ok to release it, I mean, after all, it's the Bronx. What could one more foul, methanous odor do to hurt this filthy city? There were still quite a few people near me in the car, though not enough that the origin of the smell would be a big mystery, especially if it were accompanied by sound.

Then something caught my eye. It seemed too specific to be coincidental. Even though I'm not a particularly supersticious person, it seemed like some cosmic warning. The guy directly across from me was wearing a grey baseball hat backwards. In raised red plastic capital letters on the grey adjustment strap was the hat's brand name....

"CLENCH"

So I did.