The Baked Beans Saga

By Saniya Kamal

Note before reading: Baked beans are not among the more popular dietary items because of the
pungent odour the eater lets out once they’re eaten. Therefore, baked beans are often avoided.

In every conventional sense, Harold Smith was a good citizen. He would abide by traffic rules, he would
never litter and once he had even helped an old mute lady cross the road. The fact that the old lady
did not want to cross the road in the first place is another argument entirely. But if Harold could be
incriminated for something, it would be chronic air pollution. Harold was addicted to baked beans and
hence was the constant source of a hazardous gas. His continual emissions deepened the problem of
global warming even further. Those who had the great misfortune of being around him could only pray
for a quicker, less torturing death. But God did not show them such mercy and neither did Harold.

Tired of her husband’s incessant gaseous problem, on their twentieth anniversary, Nancy Smith had only
one gift in mind.

“Please don’t eat them today. You know how much I hate them! Please Harold, please!”

After a lot of begging on Nancy’s part, Harold left for work with a single promise – not today. In his office
the hours trickled by. Baked bean deprivation was not a trivial issue for him. On his way home, Harold
passed by his favourite baked bean shop. Today it enticed him more than anything. And all he could
do was long for it, or perhaps not. If he ate some, how would his wife know? The instant this thought
occurred to him, it occupied him, spreading like a virus. Before he knew it, Harold found himself walking
towards the shop, every long and hurried step hinting his yearning.

When he was heading home, Harold felt ashamed. A frenzy had taken over him and he had gobbled
down those beans like a starving animal. He entered his house hoping that his wife wouldn’t see the
guilt on his face. But she was too overcome with joy to even notice an elephant singing Britney Spears.

“Oh Harold!” she hugged him, “I’m so glad that you did this. You don’t know how much this means to
me. Now, I’ve got a special surprise for you!”

With that, she blind-folded him and led him to what Harold could feel was their dining table. She
pulled a chair out for him and helped him sit down. Just when she was about to take the blind-fold off,
Harold felt it, the urge. What would he do? His wife would find out! He needed a savior, and fast! The
savior turned out to be a grey coloured contraption placed in their lounge that enabled two-way voice
communication. Ttrrnngg! Ttrrnngg! The phone rang.

“Uh-oh, I’ll be right back, no peeking!”

As soon as his wife stepped out, Harold exploded, or at least it sounded so. The blast was the first of
many, a chain reaction had begun. One after the other, Harold smelled the evidence of his crime diffuse
away. And even though he was in a room with an extremely foul stench, he couldn’t stop smiling. His
wife would never know.

Indeed when his returned, she had not the slightest idea. She quickly took the blind-fold off.

“Open your eyes! Surprise!”

And Harold saw that the room was full of traumatized guests.