All was quiet in the Cyclonian meeting room.
Everyone was waiting for the Master to speak.
Cyclonis was particularily quiet today. Immobile. Silent. All of a sudden, her face seemed to contort into an expression of extreme concentration. But no one noticed; they were all watching the clock. Waiting for lunch.
Pfffbbbbbt...pff...fft..pt.
The flatulent sound bounced from high to low.
"EWW!" Ravess squealed, jumping up onto her chair and waving at the air with her stack of papers. "SNIPE!"
"Wha? It wasn't me," he said, pinching his nose.
"Dark Ace!" Ravess howled. "Show some decorum!"
"Don't look at me, I haven't had beans in ages!" he growled, reaching for his report to block the odor.
A gulp and a sheepish giggle escaped the teenage Cyclonian commander. "Eh-he-he-he...Sorry about that..." she said, raising her hand tentatively.
Ravess sat back down with her back strangely rigid. "Well...at least your...gas has...good...pitch, Master."
Dark Ace fell over laughing.
OOO
A/N: I guess even royals have gas...
Maybe she ate burritoes last night for dinner. Or cauliflower, that always makes you toot.