I remember it like it happened yesterday, and it has haunted me in my dreams on a weekly basis ever since the event that shattered my worldview and permanently damaged my sense of smell took place. One never knows when that life-altering incident will hit them with the force of a thousand nuclear bombs. They just come right out of nowhere, and you will never be the same again.
I was at the Westin Bonaventure Hotel in Los Angeles on February 3rd, 2011. A date that will live on in infamy for the rest of my days. Completely unaware of what would soon become my horrible fate, I stepped into the glass elevator and prepared to admire the amazing cityscape as it whisked me away to the top floor. As I was looking out the window, staring out over downtown Los Angeles, I saw what appeared to be a ten-year-old girl wearing a large backpack enter the elevator behind me just as the doors closed. Turning towards her to inquire where her parents were, I quickly realized that this was not a small child after all. It was Hollywood actor, star of sparkly vampire movies, Anna Kendrick.
Being cute is the perfect disguise. Don’t be fooled, guys. She’s dangerous.
She turned towards me, made eye contact, and smiled sweetly. I opened my mouth to utter a polite greeting, when suddenly…
BRAP! BRAAP! BRAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!
The smell hit me like a crashing passenger jet, and I stumbled backwards into the elevator window — hoping that the glass would break so that I could fall to my death and spare myself from the writhing agony that had consumed me. I quickly surmised that she had been eating fajitas. Rapidly pulling my hoodie up over my nose to create an impromptu gas mask, I wondered how someone who looked so sweet and innocent was so insidiously capable of emitting such noxious fumes with impunity.
I can think of something that’s even louder than love, Kendrick
She stared at me, curiously surveying the damage she had wrought, and I returned her gaze with my own expression of shock and horror. I glanced out the window, becoming acutely aware of just how cruel fate could be. There I was, mere inches from fresh air. Yet, I could not get to it. The young Hollywood movie star removed her backpack, opened it, and produced an apple box — which she then placed at my feet and stood upon in a deft height-equalization manoeuvre. She leaned in close to me and triumphantly whispered the words that I will never forget into my ear: “No one will ever believe you.”
Accessory to the crime.
She leapt down from the apple box, quickly stuffed it into her backpack, and slung it over her shoulder. The elevator reached her floor, the doors opened, and she stepped out — quickly hitting the “door close” button as she exited, trapping me inside the elevator with the cloud of toxic gas. I stared at her, still in shock, as the doors closed. She shot me a glance of sheer victory and gave me the finger.
My work here is done, bitches.
The whole ordeal lasted less than sixty seconds, but the after effects have lingered with me ever since it happened. Being fart raped by Anna Kendrick has taught me that looks can be incredibly deceiving, and I have lived with the shame of being so egregiously victimized for the past six years. My olfactory senses have been completely destroyed, and I get triggered by the memory of the traumatic event every time I step inside an elevator or drive past a Mexican restaurant. I have decided to courageously share my story with the world because I believe that she is a serial fart-rapist, and that there are more victims out there suffering in silence. Perhaps it will inspire them to come forward. She can’t be allowed to get away with this forever.