The Great Shady Acres Gas-Off Championship
Walter Crenshaw had one hand on the Throne and the other raised in the air when Denise Porter decided she had already made a mistake by letting him arrive early.
“Now listen carefully,” Walt said. “A seated attempt is not about brute force.”
Nobody had asked.
Six residents were scattered around the Magnolia Recreation Room filling out registration forms for the annual Shady Acres farting contest. Two of them stopped writing anyway.
Walt took silence as permission.
“Brute force is amateur thinking. You want control. Timing. Confidence. You want the room to understand that you meant to do what you just did.”
Harold Finch looked up from his form.
“How would the room know?”
“The room knows.”
“The room is carpet and drywall.”
“Hal, I’m trying to help people.”
“You’re frightening newcomers.”
Walt ignored him.
At eighty-two, Walter Crenshaw still spoke with the easy certainty of a man who had spent most of his adult life telling customers why the refrigerator they had not planned to buy was the refrigerator they had always needed.
He had retired from appliance sales eighteen years earlier.
He had not retired from selling Walter Crenshaw.
Behind him stood the Throne, a wide vinyl-upholstered chair reserved exclusively for official seated competition. The chair had originally been part of a discontinued waiting-room set. Nobody knew what happened to the matching chairs.
The Throne had survived four contests, two bingo-related spills, one disputed upholstery repair, and the Whoopee Cushion Incident, depending on whose version of that story anyone believed.
Denise stood near the bulletin board posting the rules.
The printed header said:
SHADY ACRES WIND INSTRUMENT INVITATIONAL
Someone had crossed it out and written:
FARTING CONTEST
Denise had crossed that out.
Someone had written it again.
Denise looked at Walt’s blue marker.
Walt slipped it into his shirt pocket.
“The administrator approved the official title,” she said.
“The administrator is afraid of language.”
“The administrator does not want the phrase farting contest on the monthly calendar.”
“Cowardice.”
“Your opinion has been documented.”
Denise held a clipboard against her hip.
Across the top, in permanent marker, she had written:
INCIDENTS I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO DOCUMENT
Walt had already made the clipboard twice that morning.
Once for rewriting the event title.
Once for attempting to reserve the Throne for “champion’s warm-up access.”
Leonard Price sat behind the judges’ table with a sharpened pencil and the expression of a man awaiting a violin solo.
Leonard was eighty-seven, hard of hearing, and deeply unwilling to acknowledge either fact.
He lifted his scorecard.
“Walter, demonstrate posture.”
Denise turned.
“No practice scoring.”
“I’m not scoring.”
“You’re holding a scorecard.”
“It helps me observe.”
Walt sat.
The Throne squeaked.
Leonard pointed.
“Furniture.”
“Yes,” Denise said. “That is why rule seven says sounds produced by furniture do not count.”
Leonard wrote something.
Hal leaned over.
“What did you write?”
“Chair noise. Four-point-two.”
“You scored the chair.”
“Comparative reference.”
Denise took the scorecard away from him.
Leonard looked wounded.
“A judge without notes is a civilian.”
“You are a civilian until Saturday.”
Walt stood.
The Throne squeaked again.
Leonard’s eyes went to Denise’s confiscated scorecard.
“Furniture,” he muttered.
Arthur Pike sat near the artificial flowers with both hands resting on his cane.
At ninety, Arthur was the oldest former champion still living at Shady Acres and therefore enjoyed a status he had done almost nothing to discourage.
He nodded toward Walt.
“A loud horse still needs a gate.”
Hal looked at him.
“What?”
Arthur gazed toward the far wall.
“You’ll understand when the chair is empty.”
Hal turned to Walt.
“Do you know what that means?”
“No.”
“Should I?”
“No.”
Marjorie Bell was pretending not to listen from three chairs away.
She leaned toward Doris Mullen.
“That’s championship wisdom.”
Walt heard her.
“That’s nonsense.”
Arthur smiled faintly.
“Pride plugs the ear.”
Marjorie whispered, “Write that down.”
Doris actually did.
Walt turned back to the room.
“What I’m saying is natural ability matters. You can polish technique, but you cannot manufacture greatness.”
“Thank God,” Hal said.
Walt pointed at him.
“That attitude is why you’ve never medaled.”
“I have never entered.”
“Exactly.”
The recreation-room door opened.
Evelyn Bixby came in carrying a smartphone, a cardigan folded over one arm, and the calm expression that had irritated Walt for most of the decade.
She was eighty-four, had placed third in the previous contest, and had once told Walt that his two championship trophies were “very impressive for plastic.”
Walt smiled immediately.
“Evelyn.”
“Walter.”
“Here to register?”
“I thought I might.”
“Good.”
She took the pen from Denise.
Walt drifted toward the table.
“Competition gets stronger every year.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Third place is respectable.”
“I’ve heard you say so.”
“Many times.”
“Yes.”
“No shame in it.”
“I had not been experiencing shame.”
Walt glanced at her form.
“You’re entering both attempts?”
“That is generally how the contest works.”
“I’m only asking because preparation at our age—”
Denise looked over.
“Careful.”
Walt corrected smoothly.
“Preparation at any age can become excessive.”
Evelyn signed her name.
“I’ve been practicing.”
That made Walt stop.
“Practicing?”
“A little.”
“Really.”
“Yes.”
“What kind of practice?”
“The private kind.”
Hal lowered his head.
Walt smiled wider.
“Well, technique only takes you so far. Natural talent cannot be taught, purchased, or mechanically enhanced.”
Evelyn looked at his marker.
“Did someone accuse mechanics?”
“General principle.”
“You sold machines for forty years.”
“Machines have their place.”
“Apparently not near you.”
Walt drew himself up.
“Machines should never do a human being’s job.”
Hal stared at him.
“You sold electric can openers.”
“Those were a mistake.”
“You owned two.”
“One was a gift.”
“I drove you to buy the other.”
Walt turned away.
Evelyn walked toward the Throne.
Leonard sat forward.
Denise pointed at him.
“No.”
“I’m only watching.”
“That is what you said before scoring the chair.”
Evelyn sat.
The Throne squeaked.
Leonard whispered, “Furniture.”
Evelyn placed her phone on her lap.
Her thumb moved once.
A short, compact fart sound came from the area around the chair.
The room went quiet.
Walt’s smile remained in place for a fraction longer than necessary.
Hal looked at Evelyn.
Then at Walt.
Leonard reached for the scorecard Denise had taken.
She pulled it farther away.
“No.”
“I would have given that eight for command.”
“This is registration.”
“Command exists whether we recognize it or not.”
Evelyn stood.
The chair squeaked.
“Furniture,” Leonard said.
She picked up her phone.
Walt studied the chair.
Then Evelyn.
Then the floor.
His salesman smile had vanished.
Evelyn noticed.
“Everything all right?”
“Perfect.”
“Good.”
She walked away.
Walt waited until she left the room.
Then he leaned toward Hal.
“Something was wrong.”
Hal did not look up from his registration form.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The beginning of three terrible days.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know. That’s what worries me.”
Walt pointed toward the Throne.
“That sound did not belong where it sounded.”
Hal looked at the chair.
“Read that sentence back to yourself.”
“You heard it.”
“I heard a fart in a farting contest.”
“It was too clean.”
“I’m not discussing cleanliness.”
“Too centered.”
Hal sighed.
“Walt.”
“I know this room.”
“You know the carpet stains by name.”
“The west wall eats low frequencies.”
“It does not.”
“The bingo machine reflects sound.”
“It’s plastic.”
“That’s acoustics.”
Hal looked toward the door Evelyn had used.
Then back at Walt.
“How long before you accuse her of espionage?”
“I’m not accusing anybody.”
“Good.”
“I’m observing.”
“That is worse.”
Breakfast became evidence at seven forty-three the following morning.
Walt arrived before Hal and changed seats three times before settling on the only chair that gave him a clear view of Evelyn’s tray.
Hal eventually arrived carrying oatmeal, toast, coffee, and a blueberry muffin.
He stopped beside the table.
“You’re in my chair.”
“I need this angle.”
“My chair has an angle.”
“Not the right one.”
“For breakfast?”
“For observation.”
Hal sat opposite him.
“I want you to answer one question.”
“Fine.”
“Is this about a medical condition?”
“No.”
“Good. I did not want to be involved in that.”
“This is competitive.”
Hal opened his oatmeal.
“That is not better.”
Across the dining hall, Evelyn sat with scrambled eggs, grapefruit, toast, tea, and her phone.
Walt pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket.
Hal saw it.
“No.”
Walt wrote:
EVELYN — BREAKFAST
“Put that away.”
“Eggs.”
“I can see them.”
“Grapefruit.”
“Still visible.”
“Toast.”
“You are doing exceptional work.”
“Tea.”
“Case closed.”
Walt added another heading:
HIGH-YIELD INVENTORY
Hal leaned across the table.
“What does that mean?”
“Potential inputs.”
“Do not use the word inputs while watching somebody eat.”
“I’m classifying.”
“Based on what science?”
“I have been around the block.”
“Not a science.”
“You can’t fool an experienced man.”
“You sold refrigerators.”
“People who bought refrigerators ate food.”
Hal stared at him.
Walt tapped the notebook.
“What did Evelyn have yesterday?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“I had pancakes.”
“Not you.”
“I pay more attention to my own breakfast than other people’s.”
“That is why you’ve never won anything.”
“I won a radio in 1988.”
Walt paused.
“What kind?”
“Clock radio.”
“Raffle?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Still got the radio.”
Marjorie appeared beside them holding coffee.
“What doesn’t count?”
“Nothing,” Hal said.
“Diet,” Walt said.
Hal closed his eyes.
Marjorie sat down without asking.
“Whose diet?”
“Nobody’s.”
“Evelyn’s.”
Marjorie’s eyes moved across the room.
“I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“She changed something.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re watching her grapefruit.”
“I’m observing.”
“Why?”
“Competitive research.”
Marjorie lowered her voice to a whisper loud enough to reach the next table.
“Do you suspect dietary enhancement?”
Hal dropped his spoon.
Walt frowned.
“I did not say enhancement.”
“Doping?”
“No.”
The woman at the next table turned.
Marjorie leaned closer.
“Dietary doping?”
“No.”
“What else would grapefruit be doing?”
“Being breakfast.”
Marjorie nodded slowly.
“I have this from an extremely reliable source.”
“You have nothing from anybody.”
“My source is sitting at this table.”
Hal pointed at Walt.
“Her source is you.”
“I know.”
Marjorie rose.
“I’ll keep this confidential.”
“No, you won’t.”
She had already left.
Hal watched her cross to another table and bend toward Doris.
“You’ve created a scandal before eight.”
“I asked about breakfast.”
“You asked Marjorie about breakfast.”
“That should not be a dangerous act.”
“You’ve lived here six years.”
Walt returned his attention to Evelyn.
“She’s too calm.”
“She’s eating toast.”
“Exactly.”
“What should she be doing?”
“Nervous people reveal patterns.”
“She isn’t nervous because nobody sane is investigating her grapefruit.”
Walt stood.
Hal looked up.
“Where are you going?”
“Direct conversation.”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you have a notebook labeled high-yield inventory.”
Walt slipped the notebook into his pocket.
“Problem solved.”
He crossed the dining hall.
Evelyn saw him approaching.
“Good morning.”
“Evelyn.”
She buttered her toast.
“Would you like some?”
“No.”
“You’ve been looking at it long enough.”
“I wasn’t looking at the toast.”
“The grapefruit?”
“Casual interest.”
“You’ve changed chairs three times.”
“I like variety.”
“You moved a flower arrangement.”
“It blocked the sight line.”
“To my breakfast.”
Walt pulled out the chair across from her.
“I couldn’t help noticing your competitive preparation has intensified.”
“It has?”
“You said you were practicing.”
“I did.”
“Now your results have changed.”
“They have.”
“Dramatically.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“You don’t go from third place to that kind of output overnight.”
Evelyn took a sip of tea.
“Perhaps I bloomed late.”
“Not that late.”
“Charming.”
“I mean competitively.”
“That improved it.”
Walt leaned in.
“Did you change what you eat?”
“No.”
“Supplements?”
“No.”
“Special cushion?”
“No.”
“Posture?”
“No.”
“Training device?”
Evelyn stopped buttering toast.
“Walter.”
“Yes?”
“Are you trying to reverse-engineer my farts over breakfast?”
A spoon clattered at the next table.
Walt lowered his voice.
“I am asking a professional question.”
“There are no professionals.”
“Some of us have championships.”
“That does not create a profession.”
“It creates credibility.”
“In what field?”
He refused to answer.
Evelyn picked up her phone.
Walt’s gaze moved to it.
She noticed.
He noticed that she noticed.
Evelyn unlocked the screen.
“Anything else?”
“I just want to be sure everyone competes under the same conditions.”
“How noble.”
“Ethics matter.”
“In this?”
“Especially in this.”
Her thumb moved.
A sudden fart noise cut straight through his sentence.
It was sharp enough to stop conversation in a twelve-foot radius.
Walt froze.
Evelyn calmly lifted her tea.
Leonard raised his head from the far side of the dining hall.
“Was that official?”
Denise called from the coffee station.
“No.”
“Strong attack!”
“It is breakfast, Leonard.”
“Still strong.”
Evelyn took a sip.
Walt looked under the table.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking clearance.”
“For what?”
“Possibilities.”
Evelyn pushed her chair back.
“Should I stand?”
“No.”
“Would that help the investigation?”
“I am not investigating you.”
“You are under my table.”
“I am examining the underside.”
“That sentence will stay with me.”
More people were turning now.
Walt stood too quickly and bumped the table.
Tea sloshed into Evelyn’s saucer.
Marjorie appeared three feet away.
“I have this from an extremely reliable source. Walter believes Evelyn is using a modified breakfast chair.”
“No,” Walt said.
“Dietary equipment?”
“No.”
“Assisted propulsion?”
Denise was suddenly beside them.
She held the clipboard.
“I’m going to regret asking this, but define assisted propulsion.”
Walt pointed at Marjorie.
“She said it.”
“Because of what you said.”
“I asked about breakfast.”
“You crawled under Evelyn’s table.”
“I did not crawl.”
“You bent below the tablecloth.”
“That is bending.”
Denise wrote.
“What was that?”
“Unauthorized breakfast inspection.”
“That is not a thing.”
“It is now.”
Marjorie leaned close to Evelyn.
“Are you comfortable discussing the doping allegations?”
“There are doping allegations?”
Walt threw up his hands.
“There are no doping allegations.”
Marjorie nodded.
“Official denial.”
Hal carried his tray toward another table.
Walt spotted him.
“Where are you going?”
“Out of your blast radius.”
Denise pointed toward the hallway.
“Office.”
Walt stared at her.
“For what?”
“You know.”
“I genuinely don’t.”
“That makes it worse.”
Denise shut her office door.
Walt sat across from her desk.
Hal stood by the filing cabinet with his hands in his pockets.
Leonard had invited himself because he had heard the word complaint.
Nobody had successfully removed him.
Denise looked at Walt over the top of the clipboard.
“What exactly are you alleging?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Good.”
“I am raising concerns.”
“That is alleging with nicer shoes.”
Walt sat straighter.
“Evelyn’s recent performances display characteristics inconsistent with her competitive history.”
Leonard nodded.
“Excellent phrasing.”
Denise looked at him.
“You are not helping.”
“I appreciate precision.”
Walt continued.
“Her timing has changed. Her volume has changed. Her consistency has changed. The sound itself is too clean.”
Denise pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I need you to define clean.”
“No scatter.”
“What does that mean?”
“The sound sits in one place.”
Hal looked at the floor.
Denise looked at Hal.
“Does that mean anything?”
“I have no idea.”
Walt pointed at him.
“You agreed yesterday.”
“I agreed that you heard something.”
“Exactly.”
“That is not the same.”
Leonard raised a finger.
“I noticed improved tonal authority.”
Walt turned toward him.
“Thank you.”
“And narrative structure.”
Walt’s enthusiasm faded.
“Nobody knows what that means.”
“I do.”
“What does it mean?”
Leonard paused.
“It means the performance goes somewhere.”
Hal whispered, “Where?”
Leonard looked at him.
“What?”
Denise opened the printed rule sheet.
“Which rule do you believe Evelyn violated?”
“Rule eight.”
“No mechanical noise-making devices.”
“Yes.”
“What device?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you have no evidence.”
“I have acoustic evidence.”
“You have an opinion.”
“That’s not opinion. That’s acoustics.”
Denise wrote something.
Walt frowned.
“What did you write?”
“Acoustic grievance without supporting evidence.”
“That sounds prejudicial.”
“It is a private clipboard.”
“You named it.”
“I needed morale.”
Walt stood.
“Fine. Let’s examine the possibilities.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard them.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Modified furniture.”
“No.”
“Hidden device.”
“No.”
“Special cushion.”
“No.”
“Some kind of tubing.”
Hal looked at him.
“Tubing?”
“I’m listing possibilities.”
Denise held up a hand.
“There will be no searches.”
“I didn’t ask to search.”
“No inspecting Evelyn’s room.”
“Fine.”
“No inspecting her personal belongings.”
“Fine.”
“No inspecting her clothing.”
“I was never going to.”
“No inspecting furniture she is currently using.”
“That feels overly broad.”
“Walt.”
“What about common-room furniture?”
“No.”
“Visual inspection only?”
“No.”
“Acoustic testing?”
“No.”
Leonard misheard him.
“Smart foam?”
Walt turned.
“What?”
“Did you say smart foam?”
“No.”
“Memory foam can alter compression.”
“Nobody said memory foam.”
Denise looked at Walt.
“Did you mention a smartphone?”
“No.”
Leonard leaned toward him.
“Smartphone?”
Walt stopped.
A phone.
He thought about Evelyn holding hers in practice.
Then at breakfast.
Denise caught the expression.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You just got an idea.”
“I get ideas.”
“That one is banned.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“I know you.”
Walt put on his cardigan.
“No investigation.”
Hal looked at him.
Denise looked at him.
Nobody believed him.
Walt headed for the door.
Denise called after him.
“Walter.”
He turned.
“Do not surveil Evelyn.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Hal followed him into the hallway.
They walked ten feet.
Hal stopped.
“You’re going to surveil Evelyn.”
“Observe.”
“No.”
“Passive observation.”
“No.”
“She practices in Magnolia at three fifteen.”
Hal stared.
“How do you know that?”
“Schedule.”
“You checked her schedule.”
“It’s publicly posted.”
“You circled it.”
“For convenience.”
“You are not recruiting me.”
“I haven’t asked.”
“You will.”
“I might need another set of ears.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Another set of eyes would also help.”
“No.”
“Then we agree you’ll just listen.”
Hal pointed at him.
“We are not detectives.”
“I never said detectives.”
“I know where this goes.”
“Where?”
“Folders.”
Walt scoffed.
“Folders?”
“Within twenty-four hours you will have folders.”
Hal showed up at lunch carrying a manila folder.
Walt looked at it.
Hal tucked it under his arm.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The label read:
EVIDENCE
Walt pointed.
“You made a folder.”
“I had the folder.”
“You wrote evidence on it.”
“For organization.”
“You told me folders were where this goes.”
“I was speaking hypothetically.”
“You made one before lunch.”
Hal sat.
“This does not make us detectives.”
Walt opened the folder.
Inside was a timeline, a rough sketch of Magnolia, and a list titled OBSERVATIONS.
He looked up.
Hal ate a cracker.
“You’ve done excellent work.”
“I regret all of it.”
Their surveillance began at three ten.
Hal refused to call it surveillance.
Walt insisted they needed to understand sound direction inside Magnolia.
His method involved two paper cups.
Hal watched him place one against each ear.
“No.”
“Try it.”
“No.”
“This focuses sound.”
“You look like a confused picnic.”
“Technical people looked foolish before history caught up.”
“You sold refrigerators.”
“That is the second time today you’ve tried to reduce a forty-year career to one product category.”
“Washers too.”
Denise passed carrying watercolor supplies.
She stopped.
Walt lowered the cups.
Nobody spoke.
She looked from him to Hal.
Then to the cups.
Then to the EVIDENCE folder.
Hal slipped the folder behind his back.
Denise took out her pen.
“You cannot write me up for holding cups.”
“I can document anything.”
“What are you writing?”
“Unauthorized acoustic investigation with paper cups.”
“You already documented unauthorized acoustic investigation.”
“I added paper cups.”
“That is vindictive.”
“That is specificity.”
She continued down the hallway.
Hal watched her leave.
“Strong start.”
“Let her laugh.”
“She wasn’t laughing.”
“She will when the truth comes out.”
“Probably not.”
Evelyn entered Magnolia at three sixteen.
Walt nudged Hal.
“She’s late.”
“By one minute.”
“Change in routine.”
“Write it down yourself.”
They sat outside the open doorway.
Walt held a newspaper in front of his face.
Hal worked a crossword.
After thirty seconds he glanced at Walt.
“Your newspaper is upside down.”
“I’m not reading it.”
“That does not make it better.”
“It blocks my face.”
“It tells her you’re pretending.”
Inside the room Evelyn sat in the Throne.
Walt could see her shoulder and one hand.
The phone rested in her lap.
He could not see the screen.
A modest fart sound came from inside.
Walt lowered the paper.
Hal lowered his crossword.
Thirty seconds passed.
Another sound followed.
Longer this time.
Walt leaned toward the doorway.
Evelyn turned her head.
He jerked back.
Too late.
“Walter?”
He stood.
“Evelyn.”
She looked past him.
“Harold?”
Hal lifted the crossword.
“Seven-letter word for ‘unwise decision.’”
Evelyn looked at Walt’s newspaper.
“It’s upside down.”
“Printing issue.”
“With every page?”
“Cheap paper.”
She waited.
Walt entered the room.
“I was passing.”
“You’ve been outside for ten minutes.”
“Resting.”
“Behind a newspaper.”
“People read.”
“Not usually backward.”
Hal came in too.
Evelyn pointed at his folder.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“It says evidence.”
“Old folder.”
“You wrote that in black marker.”
“We are not detectives.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Good.”
Evelyn sat back.
“Would you like to stay?”
Walt folded the newspaper.
“For what?”
“My practice.”
“I have no interest in your practice.”
“You are hiding outside my practice.”
“I was testing the room.”
“Why?”
“Acoustics.”
“Of course.”
She placed both hands on the arms of the Throne.
“Watch carefully.”
Walt did.
Nothing happened.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Evelyn looked at him.
Walt kept watching.
Hal shifted his weight.
Twenty seconds.
Evelyn said, “This is the strangest audience I have ever had.”
Walt held up one finger.
“Wait.”
“For what?”
A sharp fart sound suddenly came from behind him.
Walt spun.
Nothing was there.
Hal looked toward the far wall.
Evelyn remained still.
Her phone sat on the chair beside her.
Walt pointed toward the artificial flowers.
“That came from there.”
Hal shook his head.
“I thought it came from the chair.”
“Exactly.”
“How is that exactly?”
“The room is distorting direction.”
“The room has not developed powers.”
“That’s acoustics.”
Evelyn nodded thoughtfully.
“Excellent.”
Walt turned back.
“Do it again.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m finished.”
“That was one attempt.”
“I’m conserving strength.”
“You just told us to watch.”
“I changed my mind.”
She picked up her phone.
Walt’s eyes followed it.
Evelyn saw.
He looked away too late.
She slipped the phone into her cardigan pocket.
“I’ll see you both at dinner.”
After she left, Walt walked directly to the Throne.
Hal said, “Don’t.”
Walt pressed the cushion.
Squeak.
He pressed it again.
Squeak.
His face changed.
Hal set down the crossword.
“That is vinyl.”
“Listen.”
“I listened.”
Walt pressed harder.
Squeak.
“There is something inside.”
“Yes. Cushion.”
“A mechanism.”
“Foam.”
“How do you know?”
“Because chairs contain foam.”
Walt bent down.
A zipper ran along the underside.
His eyes widened.
“Evidence.”
Hal actually laughed.
“No.”
“There’s a zipper.”
“Cushions have zippers.”
“What if something was inserted?”
“Then Denise will insert us into an incident report.”
Walt pulled the zipper.
By three forty, twelve residents had gathered around the Throne.
Nobody knew who had told them.
Marjorie claimed she had arrived independently.
Nobody believed that.
Walt stood beside the chair holding a block of yellow foam above his head.
“There.”
Denise stared at him.
“What am I looking at?”
“Internal material.”
“It’s foam.”
“Exactly.”
“Why are you holding it?”
“Because I found it inside.”
“Inside the cushion.”
“Yes.”
“Where foam lives.”
Walt lowered it.
“We don’t know what has been done to it.”
Hal rubbed his face.
“Nothing has been done to it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know what foam looks like.”
Leonard came closer.
“Smart foam.”
Walt turned.
“Stop calling it smart foam.”
“I only asked.”
“You have said it four times.”
Leonard pinched the foam.
“Standard.”
Walt looked interested.
“You can tell?”
“No.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Participating.”
Arthur approached the chair.
He pressed the armrest.
Squeak.
Leonard lifted his pencil.
“Four-point-five.”
Denise snapped her fingers.
“No judging furniture.”
Arthur pressed it again.
Squeak.
He nodded.
“The chair complains only when asked.”
Marjorie whispered, “That’s beautiful.”
Walt stared at her.
“It is a chair squeak.”
Arthur turned toward him.
“A man who chases thunder rarely hears the breeze.”
“Could you say one thing this week that means something?”
Arthur smiled.
“Maybe Saturday.”
Evelyn entered.
The crowd shifted.
She saw the open cushion.
She saw Walt holding foam.
Then she looked at Denise.
“Should I ask?”
“No,” Denise said.
“Yes,” Walt said.
Evelyn looked at him.
“What happened?”
“I discovered the chair had been altered.”
Denise immediately corrected him.
“He discovered a zipper.”
“And foam.”
“The foam came with the chair.”
“Prove it.”
Denise stared at him.
“How?”
“Exactly.”
Hal groaned.
Evelyn walked closer.
“Do you believe I put the foam there?”
“I believe possibilities remain open.”
“Since when?”
“Since practice.”
“You think I am cheating with upholstery.”
“I think you are cheating somehow.”
The room went quiet.
There it was.
The accusation.
Evelyn folded her arms.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because I did better than you expected.”
“Because what you are producing does not make physical sense.”
“Perhaps I’m talented.”
“You weren’t last year.”
A few residents made sympathetic noises.
Even Walt heard how bad that sounded.
Evelyn’s voice remained pleasant.
“Thank you, Walter.”
“I mean competitively.”
“Somehow worse.”
Walt pointed toward the Throne.
“Sit.”
Denise said, “No.”
Evelyn said, “Gladly.”
She sat.
Squeak.
Half the room said, “Furniture.”
Evelyn rested her hands on her lap.
Her phone was under one palm.
Walt saw it.
A huge fart sound rolled through the room.
It began low, built steadily, stopped just long enough to make everyone think it had ended, then returned with a deep final burst.
The room went dead silent.
Leonard’s mouth opened.
Hal whispered, “Jesus.”
Denise looked at Evelyn.
Evelyn remained seated.
Leonard reached for a scorecard.
“No,” Denise said.
“I need to record this.”
“No.”
“Nine-point-five for command.”
“This is practice.”
“Nine-point-six for finish.”
“Stop.”
“Nine-point-eight narrative structure.”
Hal looked over.
“What story did that tell?”
Leonard tapped his pencil.
“Triumph over adversity.”
Walt stared at Evelyn.
Residents began clapping.
Somebody called, “Bixby!”
Another person joined.
“Bixby!”
Evelyn stood.
The Throne squeaked.
“Furniture!”
She raised a hand.
“Please. It was only practice.”
Walt watched her pick up the phone.
Their eyes met.
Evelyn gave him the smallest possible smile.
Then she walked out.
The chant followed her into the hallway.
Walt still held the piece of foam.
Hal took it gently from his hand.
“You should put the chair back together.”
“She’s doing something.”
“Yes.”
“You believe me.”
“I believe that sound was suspicious.”
“Thank you.”
“I also believe you are holding part of a chair you were told not to dismantle.”
Walt pointed toward the door.
“She has made me look crazy.”
Hal handed the foam to Denise.
“You did most of the lifting there.”
By Thursday, Evelyn had become a celebrity.
Residents stopped her in hallways.
They asked for advice during meals.
Doris Mullen wanted to know whether breathing through the nose improved control.
Evelyn said yes.
Stanley Burke asked whether walking after lunch helped.
Evelyn said moderately.
Marjorie asked whether she had a secret coach.
Evelyn said no.
Walt watched this happen from the far side of the common room.
“This is fraud.”
Hal ate cheese crackers.
“This is popularity.”
“She is teaching false technique.”
“Doris is breathing through her nose. She will survive.”
“You don’t understand status.”
“I understand you’ve lost some.”
Walt turned.
“This is not about my status.”
Hal looked at him.
Walt waited.
Hal kept looking.
“Fine. It is partly about my status.”
“Mostly.”
“Partly.”
Evelyn was now explaining posture to a small group.
“Relax the shoulders,” she said.
Doris relaxed hers.
“Not that much.”
Doris adjusted.
“Good.”
Walt leaned toward Hal.
“She’s making it up.”
“Almost certainly.”
“They believe her.”
“People believe Arthur and he told Stanley not to trust wind from the east.”
“The courtyard faces west.”
“I know.”
Evelyn excused herself and crossed toward the window.
She took out her phone.
Hal stopped chewing.
Walt saw it immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You stopped.”
“I am allowed to stop chewing.”
“Not when crackers are available.”
Hal looked at Evelyn.
Then at Walt.
“I noticed something Tuesday.”
Walt moved closer.
“What?”
“Before the big sound.”
“Yes?”
“She looked at the phone.”
Walt said nothing.
Hal continued.
“I noticed it at breakfast too.”
Walt’s eyes moved to Evelyn.
“She looked at it right before?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“I was not investigating then.”
“You are investigating now.”
“We are not detectives.”
“You made a timeline.”
“That is organization.”
“You interviewed Doris.”
“She talks to everyone.”
“You wrote down what she said.”
“Because she changes the story.”
Walt stood.
“The phone.”
Hal grabbed his sleeve.
“Do not shout that.”
“The phone.”
“Sit.”
Walt sat.
Across the room Evelyn tapped the screen.
A deep fart sounded near her chair.
Several residents applauded.
Hal’s cracker stopped halfway to his mouth.
Walt slowly turned toward him.
Hal lowered the cracker.
“That was suspicious.”
“The phone.”
“Maybe.”
“The phone.”
“Maybe.”
Walt stood again.
“This is electronic.”
Hal pulled him down.
“Keep your voice down.”
Walt spoke louder.
“The enemy is electronic.”
Every nearby conversation stopped.
Marjorie appeared beside him.
“What is electronic?”
Hal said, “Nothing.”
Walt said, “Evelyn.”
Marjorie’s eyes widened.
“Evelyn is electronic?”
“No.”
“Partly?”
“No.”
“Replacement hip?”
“She uses her phone.”
Marjorie leaned in.
“For what?”
“Sound effects.”
Her eyes widened further.
“Artificial intelligence.”
“No.”
“You said smart.”
“Smartphone.”
“Artificial intelligence lives in phones.”
“Not every phone function is artificial intelligence.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know a fart recording is not artificial intelligence.”
Marjorie moved away.
“I have this from an extremely reliable source.”
Walt grabbed her elbow gently.
“Do not repeat that.”
“Why?”
“Because you will make it sound stupid.”
She looked at him.
“You are accusing Evelyn Bixby of using a fart app to win a nursing-home championship.”
Hal covered his face.
Marjorie patted Walt’s hand.
“I don’t think I can make it sound stupider.”
She left.
Walt turned to Hal.
“The courtyard.”
Hal sighed.
“What about it?”
“She practices there after four.”
“You want to follow her.”
“Observe.”
“No.”
“We need confirmation.”
“We already look insane.”
“Truth doesn’t care how we look.”
“That sentence usually comes before trouble.”
Walt stood.
Hal picked up the EVIDENCE folder.
Walt noticed.
Hal glared at him.
“Not detectives.”
Evelyn sat alone on the courtyard bench beneath the striped awning.
Walt and Hal watched through the hallway door.
Hal was crouching slightly.
“My knees hurt.”
“Stand up.”
“Then she’ll see me.”
“You said you weren’t hiding.”
“I changed my position.”
“That sounds detective-like.”
“Shut up.”
Evelyn held the smartphone in both hands.
Walt could see the screen light on her face.
Her thumb moved.
A neat fart sound came from the bench.
Walt grabbed Hal’s arm.
“There.”
“I heard.”
“She tapped.”
“I saw.”
Evelyn looked down again.
Her thumb moved.
A longer sound played.
Hal’s mouth tightened.
Walt whispered, “Phone.”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“The phone.”
“I knew it.”
“You suspected it yesterday.”
“I knew it today.”
“You also knew it was grapefruit.”
“I investigated grapefruit.”
“And foam.”
“I eliminated foam.”
“You tore it out of a chair.”
“Quiet.”
Evelyn tapped again.
Another sound.
Walt pushed open the door.
“Got you.”
Evelyn looked up.
Her face did not change.
“Walter.”
Walt walked toward her.
Hal followed more slowly.
“Don’t Walter me.”
“What would you prefer?”
“Caught.”
“That isn’t a name.”
“You played it.”
“Played what?”
“Do not insult both of us.”
Hal held up one finger.
“We did see you tap.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“You too?”
“I’m simply stating an observation.”
“You’re carrying a folder labeled evidence.”
“We are not detectives.”
“You’ve said that often enough to make me suspicious.”
Walt held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Open the app.”
“No.”
“Then you admit it.”
“No.”
“You tapped the screen and the sound played.”
“My phone makes sounds.”
“Your phone farts?”
“It has many functions.”
“What function?”
“Private.”
Hal muttered, “That answer is annoyingly possible.”
Walt glared at him.
“Do not help her.”
Evelyn slipped the phone into her pocket.
Walt stepped sideways.
“Where are you going?”
“Inside.”
“We’re not finished.”
“I am.”
“You are cheating.”
“During practice?”
“You plan to use it Saturday.”
“That is a prediction.”
“You have done it all week.”
“That is an accusation.”
“We saw you.”
“You saw me touch my phone.”
“A sound followed.”
“Phones make sounds.”
“Not those sounds.”
“You should adjust your notification settings.”
Walt looked at Hal.
Hal shrugged.
“I hate that she keeps having technically plausible answers.”
Walt turned back.
“Open the application.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my phone.”
“What if Denise asks?”
“She can ask.”
“What if the judges ask?”
“They can ask.”
“What if I ask?”
“You did.”
“And?”
“No.”
Evelyn stood.
Walt’s voice lowered.
“You’re going to get caught.”
She adjusted her cardigan.
“Maybe.”
That one word stopped him.
Hal heard it too.
Evelyn looked at Walt.
“You wanted me to take the contest seriously.”
“Not by cheating.”
“You’ve spent two years telling everyone I lack championship temperament.”
“You do.”
“Perhaps I’ve developed it.”
“Champions don’t fake results.”
“Champions also don’t interrogate grapefruit.”
“That was preliminary.”
Evelyn walked past him.
At the door she turned.
“You know what your problem is?”
“I have several according to Denise.”
“You think winning this thing gives you dignity.”
“It gives me standing.”
“It gives you a plastic trophy with a bowling man glued to a cardboard cushion.”
Walt looked offended.
“That trophy has history.”
“It has hot glue.”
She went inside.
Walt stayed in the courtyard.
Hal came beside him.
“We know the method.”
“Yes.”
“We don’t have proof.”
“Yes.”
“The phone could be doing anything when she taps.”
“Yes.”
“You saying yes this calmly is making me nervous.”
Walt looked through the glass door.
Evelyn disappeared around the corner.
“Before today, we were trying to figure out what she was doing.”
Hal nodded.
“Now we need to prove it.”
Hal opened the EVIDENCE folder.
He pulled out the timeline.
“We need another section.”
Walt looked at him.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
“You absolutely are.”
Hal took out a pen.
“I enjoy being correct.”
“That’s detective thinking.”
“We are not detectives.”
Friday’s Technology Hearing began at ten.
Denise repeatedly said it was not a hearing.
Nobody listened.
Residents filled nearly every folding chair in Magnolia.
Leonard sat behind the judging table wearing a sport coat.
Denise saw it.
“Why are you dressed up?”
“Proceedings matter.”
“There are no proceedings.”
Marjorie leaned toward Doris.
“This is already better than bridge.”
Walt sat on one side of the room with Hal and four folders.
Evelyn sat on the other side holding her phone.
Arthur occupied the center seat in the front row without explanation.
Denise stood between them.
“This meeting is only to clarify rule eight.”
Walt raised his hand.
“And propose a ban.”
“No.”
“A temporary ban.”
“No.”
“Phone-free performance zone.”
“No.”
“Device quarantine.”
“Stop naming it.”
Leonard tapped the table.
“I would like to recognize Walter.”
Denise looked at him.
“You don’t control the meeting.”
“I am head judge.”
“On Saturday.”
“Judicial authority should not disappear on Friday.”
“It does here.”
Walt stood anyway.
“Now listen carefully.”
Half the room groaned.
Walt looked around.
“You’ll thank me later.”
Nobody appeared convinced.
“We have a rule against mechanical noise-making devices. A smartphone is a mechanical—”
Hal whispered, “Electronic.”
“Electronic noise-making device.”
Evelyn raised her hand.
“My phone is also my clock.”
Doris raised hers.
“Mine is my magnifier.”
Stanley said, “Mine has solitaire.”
Marjorie lifted hers.
“I take photographs.”
Hal looked at her.
“Mostly of people who don’t know.”
“That is what makes them candid.”
Walt spoke over them.
“I am not proposing permanent confiscation.”
Denise said, “You used the word quarantine.”
“During competition only.”
Evelyn crossed one leg over the other.
“Why?”
Walt stared at her.
“You know why.”
“Say it.”
“You are using prerecorded fart sounds.”
The room exploded.
Marjorie whispered, “There it is.”
Doris whispered back, “Artificial intelligence?”
“No,” Walt shouted.
Denise hit the microphone.
It squealed.
Everyone complained.
She shut it off.
“We do not need amplification.”
Leonard raised his hand.
“I have a legal question.”
“No.”
“It is important.”
Denise stared at him.
“What?”
“If a prerecorded fart is played during a farting contest, has a fart occurred?”
Silence.
Several residents actually considered it.
Walt threw up his hands.
“No.”
Leonard looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because it’s a recording.”
“The original fart occurred.”
“Somewhere else.”
“Possibly years ago.”
“That makes it worse.”
Arthur spoke solemnly.
“The old wind still remembers the window.”
Marjorie whispered, “That’s excellent.”
Hal wrote it down.
Walt saw him.
“Why are you writing that?”
“I don’t know.”
Denise read from the posted rules.
“Rule ten: audible proof must originate from the contestant.”
Walt pointed.
“There.”
Evelyn said, “If my phone is in my pocket, the sound originates from the contestant.”
“No, it originates from the phone.”
“The phone is on the contestant.”
“Location is not origin.”
Leonard brightened.
“A distinction between physical origin and acoustic origin.”
Walt pointed at him.
“Exactly.”
Leonard wrote something.
Walt leaned over.
“What did you write?”
“Eight-point-four argument structure.”
“You scored my argument?”
“Strong opening. Some repetition.”
Denise took his pencil.
“No scoring discussions.”
Leonard looked personally injured.
“A judge needs a pencil.”
“You are abusing it.”
Evelyn stood.
“Changing rules the day before a competition is unfair.”
Walt laughed.
“Unfair?”
“Yes.”
“You’re defending your phone.”
“I’m defending everyone’s phone.”
“That is convenient.”
Doris raised hers.
“I need mine for the magnifier.”
Walt pointed at her.
“You are being used.”
“By whom?”
He paused.
“Circumstances.”
Doris looked unconvinced.
Denise lifted the clipboard.
“I’m ruling.”
Everybody quieted.
“Phones may remain with contestants.”
Walt groaned.
“No external sound-producing device may be intentionally activated during a performance.”
Walt stopped.
Evelyn’s expression changed slightly.
Denise continued.
“If a contestant intentionally activates a phone, speaker, recording device, application, or other electronic sound source during a competitive attempt, that contestant will be disqualified.”
Walt raised his hand.
“How do we prove activation?”
“With evidence.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to get.”
“You dismantled furniture.”
“That was a separate line of inquiry.”
“It was yesterday.”
“Separate.”
Denise wrote.
Walt narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“Unauthorized furniture line of inquiry.”
“That happened before this meeting.”
“I forgot to phrase it properly.”
Evelyn sat down.
Walt pointed toward her.
“This compromise rewards subtle cheating.”
Denise’s voice sharpened.
“Then catch subtle cheating.”
Walt looked at Evelyn.
Evelyn looked back.
Arthur raised one hand.
“I would like to testify.”
Denise stared at him.
“This is not a hearing.”
Arthur stood anyway.
“A man who hides thunder in his pocket still owns the pocket.”
Nobody spoke.
He sat down.
Leonard nodded solemnly.
“Persuasive.”
Denise took the microphone off the table and put it in a cabinet.
The meeting was over.
Evelyn closed her room door and looked at her phone.
Thirty-two sound files.
Seven favorites.
She had renamed every one because the original titles were undignified.
The Duchess.
Moderate volume. Refined ending.
Sunday Thunder.
Strong attack. Slightly obvious.
The Long Goodbye.
Excellent duration. Weak authority.
The Board Meeting.
Slow start. Unnecessary second half. Somehow compelling.
Cathedral Number Four.
Her masterpiece.
The Diplomat.
Subtle.
The Closing Argument.
Too aggressive for preliminary rounds.
Evelyn tapped The Duchess.
A modest fart came from the phone.
“Fine.”
She tapped Sunday Thunder.
Better.
She tapped Cathedral Number Four.
Nothing happened.
Evelyn frowned.
She tapped again.
The Bluetooth speaker on her dresser blasted Cathedral Number Four at full volume.
She jumped.
The phone slipped against the desk.
The sound kept going.
Evelyn stabbed at the screen.
It grew louder.
“Oh, stop.”
She pressed another button.
The smart lamp turned off.
“Wrong thing.”
She pressed again.
The television came on.
A cooking show filled the room.
The Bluetooth speaker switched to The Board Meeting.
The sound began with a low rumble and then developed a second act Evelyn had always considered unnecessary.
Someone knocked.
Evelyn froze.
“Evelyn?”
Walt.
Of course.
She grabbed the speaker and turned it over.
The buttons were black on black.
She pressed one.
Volume increased.
“Damn it.”
“Evelyn?”
The Board Meeting continued.
Walt knocked again.
“I heard that.”
“You heard television.”
“That was not television.”
“It’s a cooking show.”
“What are they cooking?”
“Beans.”
There was a pause outside.
“That is insulting.”
Evelyn finally killed the Bluetooth connection.
Silence returned.
She leaned against the dresser.
Her phone battery showed twenty-three percent.
Another knock.
“Open the door.”
“No.”
“I heard a speaker.”
“Congratulations.”
“Why do you have a speaker?”
“My granddaughter gave it to me.”
“What for?”
“To play music.”
“You don’t listen to music.”
“I certainly won’t start now that you’ve said that.”
Walt lowered his voice.
“You’re going to slip.”
“I’m resting.”
“You’re going to make a mistake.”
“So are you if you keep knocking.”
Silence.
His shadow stayed under the door for several seconds.
Then moved away.
Evelyn looked at the phone.
Twenty-two percent.
Her granddaughter had warned her Bluetooth used extra battery.
Saturday night would require charging.
She looked at the long white cable running from the wall outlet to her nightstand.
She would bring it.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
For the first time all week, she felt something close to embarrassment.
This had started as a joke.
One sound at practice.
One chance to wipe the smug look off Walt’s face.
Then Leonard gave her eight points for command.
Then people applauded.
Then Walt crawled under her breakfast table.
After that, continuing had felt almost civic.
Still, a technology hearing had been held.
Rules had been rewritten.
Hal Finch had folders.
Evelyn stared at the favorites list.
“This has gone too far.”
She tapped The Closing Argument.
A savage blast came from the Bluetooth speaker.
Evelyn listened.
Then she nodded.
“Final round.”
Saturday night filled Magnolia before six forty-five.
Nobody arrived early for movie night.
Nobody arrived early for chair yoga.
The farting contest had people reserving seats with sweaters.
Denise removed the sweaters.
Marjorie put them back.
Denise removed them again.
Marjorie claimed there was precedent.
Denise threatened to create another rule.
Marjorie stopped.
The handwritten scoreboard had columns for volume, duration, timing, originality, and overall authority.
Leonard added FINISH in pencil.
Denise erased it.
He added NARRATIVE.
She erased that too.
The Throne had been cleaned, zipped, inspected, and placed in the center of the performance zone.
A small sign had been taped to its back:
DO NOT DISMANTLE
Walt saw it.
“That is targeted harassment.”
Hal stood beside him holding two folders.
“You took foam out of it.”
“I inspected the cushion.”
“You held the foam over your head.”
“I had discovered something.”
“You discovered chair.”
Hal had become alarming.
He now possessed an EVIDENCE folder, a timeline, seven witness statements, an acoustic diagram, a flashlight, and a spare pencil.
Walt looked at the flashlight.
“You still haven’t explained that.”
“Emergency.”
“What emergency requires a flashlight in Magnolia?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“We are indoors.”
“Electricity has failed before.”
“That is how the contest started.”
“Exactly.”
Walt paused.
“That was good thinking.”
Hal looked annoyed by the compliment.
“We are not detectives.”
Marjorie passed.
“You two look like detectives.”
Hal replied immediately.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Detectives get paid.”
Walt smiled.
“You practiced that.”
“No.”
“You enjoyed it.”
“No.”
Denise approached the microphone.
It squealed.
Thirty residents flinched.
Leonard leaned toward Walt.
“Six-point-one.”
“For what?”
“Microphone attack.”
“Stop scoring objects.”
Denise adjusted the stand.
“Welcome to the annual Shady Acres Wind Instrument Invitational.”
Someone shouted, “Farting contest!”
A cheer followed.
Denise waited.
When the room settled, she continued.
“One seated attempt. One standing attempt. Contestants must remain in the performance zone. Furniture noises do not count.”
The Throne squeaked when Stanley leaned on it.
Half the room shouted, “Furniture!”
Denise stared at them.
“Good. We understand that one.”
She continued.
“No contestant may challenge a judge until scoring is complete. No mechanical or electronic device may be intentionally activated to produce a competitive sound.”
Every head turned toward Evelyn.
Evelyn waved politely.
Walt watched her cardigan pocket.
The preliminaries began.
Doris Mullen scored poorly in volume but surprisingly well in timing.
Afterward she whispered to Evelyn, “Breathing on six really helped.”
Evelyn looked guilty for half a second.
“I’m glad.”
Stanley Burke stepped out of the performance zone during his standing attempt.
Denise deducted two points.
He challenged the ruling before scoring finished.
She deducted another.
“That’s tyranny.”
“That’s rule nine.”
“I’m appealing.”
“To whom?”
“Leonard.”
Leonard shook his head.
“My hands are tied.”
“They’re on the table.”
“Procedurally.”
Arthur Pike took the Throne.
He sat with both hands resting on his knees.
Ten seconds passed.
Nothing.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Leonard waited with reverence.
Denise checked the clock.
Arthur opened one eye.
“Patience.”
Hal whispered, “He may have forgotten why he’s there.”
Walt shook his head.
“Arthur never forgets an audience.”
At twenty-eight seconds Arthur produced a compact, respectable entry.
The room applauded.
Leonard held up 8.2.
“Strong restraint.”
Denise said, “Authority?”
“Yes.”
“You were about to call restraint a category.”
“It should be considered.”
Arthur stood.
The Throne squeaked.
“Furniture!”
Arthur bowed and returned to his seat.
Walt’s turn came fifth.
He adjusted his cardigan.
Hal stopped him.
“Focus on your own attempt.”
“I am focused.”
“You’ve asked me where Evelyn’s phone is four times.”
“Where is it?”
“Cardigan pocket.”
“Which side?”
“Right.”
“Good.”
“Walt.”
“I heard you.”
“You cannot win while watching somebody else.”
“I can do two things.”
“You walked into a ficus yesterday while watching her phone.”
“That plant was moved.”
“It has been there since Christmas.”
Walt took the Throne.
Squeak.
“Furniture.”
He looked around Magnolia.
The wall clock was still four minutes slow.
The carpet still had stains nobody claimed.
The artificial flowers still looked dusty.
Leonard had his pencil ready.
Evelyn sat in the front row.
Walt straightened.
He waited.
Six seconds.
His seated performance came out clean and sustained.
Not spectacular.
Strong.
The audience responded.
Walt allowed himself one nod.
Leonard wrote.
“Excellent authority.”
Denise looked at him.
“That is a category.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“Moderate finish.”
“Not a category.”
“I know.”
Walt stood.
Squeak.
“Furniture!”
The scores went up.
8.9.
8.7.
9.0.
Walt accepted them with the solemnity of a man receiving medical test results.
“Professional judging.”
Hal met him near the chairs.
“You did fine.”
“Fine?”
“Very well.”
“Fine is what people say when they mean disappointing.”
“Then you were magnificent.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
Evelyn’s turn came soon after.
She sat.
Squeak.
“Furniture!”
Her hands rested in her lap.
Walt leaned forward.
Her right thumb moved beneath the cardigan.
A deep sound emerged.
Leonard’s face changed.
The sound built steadily and ended with a controlled final burst.
Walt stood.
“Phone.”
Denise pointed.
“Sit.”
“She moved her hand.”
“Sit.”
“She activated it.”
“Evidence?”
“I saw her thumb.”
“So did thirty people.”
Hal leaned toward Walt.
“I saw movement.”
“Good.”
“I did not see the screen.”
“Bad.”
“Sit down before she penalizes you.”
Evelyn stood.
Squeak.
“Furniture!”
Leonard held up 9.1.
Walt sank into his chair.
Evelyn looked at him.
No smile.
That was somehow worse.
The standing attempts followed.
Walt scored well.
Evelyn scored slightly better.
Arthur surprised everyone again.
Doris received applause simply for finishing.
At the end of preliminaries, the totals stood:
WALT — 35.7
EVELYN — 35.8
ARTHUR — 33.9
Leonard announced that the top two would advance to a championship tie-break round.
Denise said there had never been a tie-break rule.
Leonard said it had existed since the Whoopee Cushion Incident.
Marjorie insisted the Incident was why the rule existed.
Arthur disagreed.
“There was no tie.”
Doris said, “My cousin told me there was.”
Marjorie turned.
“Your cousin wasn’t living here.”
“He visited.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
Leonard said, “The goat complicated the scoring.”
Denise slammed her clipboard onto the table.
“There was no goat.”
Arthur frowned.
“That is not how I remember it.”
“You did not live here yet.”
Arthur considered that.
“Then somebody told it beautifully.”
Denise gave up.
Walt stood near the scoreboard staring at the tenth of a point between him and Evelyn.
Hal approached.
“She checked her phone.”
“How much?”
“Six percent.”
Walt looked over.
Evelyn was holding the phone near her lap.
A long white charging cable ran from an outlet beside the television, around the edge of the room, and toward her chair.
Walt recognized it.
He had seen that cable hanging from her nightstand when her door was open earlier in the week.
He had accused it of being part of a hidden sound rig.
He had been wrong.
At the time.
Now he followed it with his eyes.
The cable passed within two feet of the portable speaker.
A tiny blue light blinked on the speaker’s side.
Walt’s face changed.
Hal noticed.
“What?”
“Look.”
“At what?”
“The cable.”
“She’s charging.”
“I know.”
“That means the phone is active.”
“We know that too.”
“Look at the speaker.”
Hal looked.
Blue light.
His eyes narrowed.
“Bluetooth.”
Walt nodded.
“She had trouble with Bluetooth yesterday.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard it from her hallway.”
“You were outside her room?”
“I was walking.”
“With your ear against her door?”
“I was resting my head.”
Hal stared.
“Forget it.”
Walt leaned closer.
“If the phone connects to that speaker—”
“It could expose her.”
“Exactly.”
“Or nothing happens.”
“Then watch her hand.”
Hal nodded.
Walt started toward the performance zone.
Hal caught his sleeve.
“Do not interfere.”
“I know.”
“Do not touch her phone.”
“I know.”
“Do not touch the cable.”
“I know.”
“Do not touch the speaker.”
“I know.”
“Do not shout before we have proof.”
Walt looked at him.
“That one is unreasonable.”
Leonard stood before the championship round with his scorecard against his chest.
“This final performance will determine the 2026 Shady Acres champion.”
The room quieted.
“Judges will consider command, discipline, tonal confidence, finish, competitive courage, and narrative structure.”
Denise stepped beside him.
“Volume, duration, timing, originality, and overall authority.”
Leonard nodded.
“That is what I said.”
“No, it was not.”
“I summarized.”
“You added three things.”
“Judging has layers.”
Denise took one step away.
“I am tired of you.”
“I understand.”
Walt drew the opening position.
He approached the Throne.
Evelyn sat near the side wall with the phone connected to the long charging cable.
Battery: three percent.
Walt saw it.
She saw him see it.
Neither reacted.
Walt sat.
Squeak.
“Furniture.”
He placed both hands on his knees.
For one brief stretch, he stopped thinking about Evelyn.
He stopped thinking about the phone.
He stopped thinking about the trophy.
He knew Magnolia.
He knew the chair.
He knew the judges.
He knew his own timing.
He waited.
The result came cleanly.
Strong volume.
Good duration.
A confident finish.
The room applauded.
Walt knew it was good.
He also knew it was not unbeatable.
Leonard made a note.
“Strong authority. Mature finish. Slightly familiar narrative.”
Walt stood.
“What does familiar narrative mean?”
Denise pointed.
“No challenges until scoring.”
“I’m not challenging. I’m asking what nonsense means.”
“That is a challenge.”
Leonard held up his score.
9.0.
The second judge gave 8.8.
The third gave 8.9.
Solid.
Walt walked toward Hal.
“Beatable.”
Hal nodded.
“Yes.”
“You were supposed to disagree.”
“Would that help?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
Evelyn stood.
The room grew quiet again.
Her phone remained attached to the long cable.
She approached the Throne.
Denise inspected the cord.
“Keep it outside the performance zone.”
“I will.”
Evelyn placed the phone near her right thigh.
Walt moved to a chair with a clear line of sight.
Hal stood near the judging table holding the EVIDENCE folder against his chest.
Leonard straightened his jacket.
Evelyn sat.
Squeak.
“Furniture.”
She settled.
Her right hand moved toward the phone.
Walt watched.
She tapped the screen.
Nothing happened.
Evelyn’s expression tightened.
Walt leaned forward.
She tapped again.
Nothing.
The phone screen lit.
A small Bluetooth symbol appeared.
Walt looked toward the portable speaker.
The blue light was blinking steadily now.
He rose halfway.
Hal saw it too.
Evelyn tapped a third time.
The portable speaker beneath the television exploded with Cathedral Number Four.
The blast hit the room at full volume.
Nobody moved.
Not one person.
The sound came entirely from the speaker.
Six feet away from Leonard.
Fifteen feet from Evelyn.
Nowhere near the Throne.
Walt stood.
“There!”
Denise turned toward the speaker.
Evelyn’s face changed for the first time all week.
She stabbed at the phone.
The sound stopped.
Then The Board Meeting started.
The speaker delivered its slow opening section with brutal clarity.
Evelyn tapped again.
It stopped.
A second sound began.
Leonard lifted his scorecard instinctively.
Denise grabbed his wrist.
“Do not score the speaker.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You have a nine-point-seven raised over your head.”
“It has tremendous command.”
“It is a speaker.”
“Command can occur in multiple media.”
“No.”
Evelyn kept tapping.
The application connected to the speaker again.
A cheerful digital voice announced:
“Cathedral Number Four.”
Walt slapped both hands together.
“Cathedral Number Four!”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Marjorie stood.
“She named them?”
Hal ran forward with the folders.
“I have evidence.”
Denise turned.
“Of course you do.”
Hal placed everything on the judging table.
“Timeline. Witness statements. Phone-use correlations. Sound-direction inconsistencies. Battery observations.”
Marjorie picked up the acoustic map.
“This is a conspiracy board.”
“We are not detectives.”
“You have arrows.”
“Arrows are not law enforcement.”
Walt stepped into the performance zone.
“Everybody heard it.”
The room murmured.
“The sound came from the speaker.”
Evelyn tugged at the charging cable.
It had become trapped beneath the leg of a folding chair.
She pulled harder.
The phone slipped from her hand.
It landed face-up on the carpet.
The screen displayed her favorites list.
Marjorie was closest.
She read aloud.
“The Duchess.”
Evelyn reached for the phone.
Marjorie kept reading.
“Sunday Thunder.”
“Give me that.”
“The Long Goodbye.”
“Marjorie.”
“The Board Meeting.”
Residents began laughing.
“Cathedral Number Four.”
Walt bent over.
“The Diplomat?”
Evelyn grabbed the phone.
“They were disgusting before I renamed them.”
Walt stared at her.
“You curated them.”
“I organized them.”
“The Closing Argument?”
“I needed categories.”
Leonard leaned closer.
“Could I see the durations?”
“No,” Denise and Evelyn said together.
The room quieted gradually.
Walt pointed toward the speaker.
“You used prerecorded sounds.”
Evelyn looked at him.
He waited.
Everyone waited.
“Yes,” she said.
The room erupted.
Denise reached for the microphone, remembered she had put it away, and used her actual voice.
“Quiet.”
Nobody stopped.
“Quiet!”
The room settled.
She looked at Evelyn.
“You intentionally used a fart-sound application during competition.”
“Yes.”
“During preliminaries?”
“Yes.”
“During practice?”
“Yes.”
“Breakfast?”
Evelyn glanced at Walt.
“Especially breakfast.”
The room broke again.
Walt pointed at her.
“I knew that one was impossible.”
Evelyn shrugged.
“You were under my table. I panicked.”
“You did not look panicked.”
“I hide it well.”
Denise held up the clipboard.
“How long?”
Evelyn thought.
“Since registration.”
Walt looked vindicated enough to glow.
“You hear that?”
“Yes, Walter,” Denise said. “We all hear it.”
“Fraud.”
“Yes.”
“Electronic interference.”
“Yes.”
“Technologically enhanced flatulence.”
Denise hesitated.
“Unfortunately yes.”
Walt turned to the room.
“Now listen carefully—”
Half the room groaned.
He continued anyway.
“I said from the beginning something was wrong.”
Hal raised his hand.
“You said grapefruit.”
“That was an investigative stage.”
“You said foam.”
“Eliminated.”
“You said tubing.”
“Possibility.”
“You accused a chair.”
“The chair remains suspicious.”
The Throne squeaked when Arthur shifted against its arm.
Everyone shouted, “Furniture!”
Walt pointed at it.
“See?”
Nobody knew what he meant.
Denise looked at Evelyn.
“Why?”
Evelyn put the phone in her pocket.
“Because he was unbearable.”
Walt recoiled.
“That is not a competitive defense.”
“I’m not defending it.”
“You cheated because I won twice?”
“I cheated because you made winning twice everybody else’s problem.”
A few residents murmured agreement.
Walt looked around.
“What does that mean?”
Doris raised her hand.
“You gave me a lecture about championship posture while I was trying to mail a birthday card.”
“You asked whether the stamp was straight.”
“I did not.”
Stanley spoke.
“You signed Christmas cards ‘two-time champion.’”
“That was festive.”
Hal nodded.
“He did do that.”
Walt turned.
“You helped me address them.”
“I did not endorse the signature.”
Evelyn continued.
“You acted like you were the Muhammad Ali of passing gas.”
The room erupted.
Walt’s mouth opened.
“I have never used that phrase.”
“You called yourself the undisputed heavyweight champion.”
“That is normal sports language.”
“This is not a sport.”
Leonard looked offended.
“Excuse me.”
Denise put a hand up.
“Do not start.”
Evelyn shrugged.
“I wanted to beat him once.”
“So you cheated.”
“Yes.”
“You admit it.”
“I have been admitting it for two minutes.”
“You used machines to do a human being’s job.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“There it is.”
“That is the principle.”
“Walter, you sold microwave ovens.”
“Heating soup is not an art.”
“Neither is this.”
Walt placed a hand against his chest.
“That is offensive to everyone who competed tonight.”
Arthur nodded.
“It is.”
Nobody had expected his support.
Walt pointed toward him.
“Thank you.”
Arthur continued.
“But the thunder in the box had style.”
Walt’s support vanished.
Denise turned back to Evelyn.
“Under the rule adopted yesterday, intentional electronic sound production results in disqualification.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Fair.”
“Your score is void.”
“Fine.”
“Walter wins.”
Walt threw both arms up.
“Three!”
Denise pointed at him.
“Do not make me regret saying it.”
“Three consecutive championships.”
“You won because Evelyn was disqualified.”
“I won because I competed honestly.”
Stanley called from the back.
“Technicality.”
Walt wheeled around.
“That is not a technicality.”
“Sounds technical.”
“She cheated.”
“Still technical.”
“No.”
Arthur raised a hand.
“Evelyn demonstrated superior showmanship.”
“Showmanship is not a category.”
Leonard whispered, “It could be.”
Denise snapped.
“No.”
Leonard crossed something off his scorecard.
Walt walked toward Hal.
Hal looked at the speaker.
Then at Walt.
“That’s acoustics.”
The room exploded.
Even Evelyn laughed.
Walt stared at Hal.
“You have been waiting all week.”
Hal smiled.
“A little.”
Denise looked down at her clipboard.
She wrote slowly.
Marjorie leaned over her shoulder.
“What?”
Denise turned the board around.
The final entry read:
ELECTRONIC BUTT IMPERSONATION
Denise tried to keep a straight face.
She failed.
Walt’s victory speech began twenty-eight minutes later.
The trophy had been removed from the cabinet and placed in his hands.
It was eight inches tall and topped by a gold plastic bowler because nobody had ever found a trophy company offering a figure appropriate to the event.
A tiny cardboard cushion had been glued beneath the bowler.
Walt loved it.
“My friends,” he began, “championships are not merely won.”
Stanley called, “Technicality.”
Walt stopped.
“No.”
“They’re saying it.”
“Who is they?”
“Me.”
“That is one person.”
Marjorie raised her hand.
“I support the technicality position.”
“You thought artificial intelligence was involved.”
“It might have been.”
“It was an app.”
“Exactly.”
“That is not artificial intelligence.”
Marjorie turned to Doris.
“He’s defensive.”
Walt lifted the trophy.
“What happened tonight was a victory for integrity.”
Arthur said, “And electronics.”
“No.”
“Mostly electronics,” Evelyn said.
Walt looked at her.
“You were disqualified.”
“I remember.”
“You do not get to editorialize on the championship.”
“I’m sitting in a chair, Walter.”
“You know what I mean.”
Leonard approached Denise.
“I would like to propose an electronic division next year.”
“No.”
“It would solve enforcement issues.”
“No.”
“Separate scoring.”
“No.”
“Amplified and natural divisions.”
“No.”
“Perhaps exhibition only.”
“Leonard.”
He stopped.
Denise pointed toward the incident clipboard.
“I am one sentence away from adding you.”
Leonard returned to his chair.
Walt tried again.
“Three titles speak for themselves.”
Evelyn leaned back.
“Then why are you giving a speech?”
The room laughed.
Walt lowered the trophy.
“You are taking defeat surprisingly well.”
“I’m eighty-four. I have experienced worse things than losing a farting contest.”
“Such as?”
“Your victory speeches.”
Hal covered his mouth.
Walt stared at him.
“You too?”
“I’m trying not to become evidence.”
Marjorie had already begun reconstructing the story for a resident who had been present for the entire thing.
“I have this from an extremely reliable source. Evelyn’s phone seized control of the recreation-room sound system.”
“It connected by Bluetooth,” Hal said.
“That is what I said.”
“You said seized control.”
“Same family.”
“It is not.”
“You’re my source.”
“I regret speaking.”
Across the room Arthur and Leonard were arguing about the Whoopee Cushion Incident.
“The phone scandal was worse,” Leonard said.
Arthur shook his head.
“No.”
“There was deliberate technological deception.”
“The Cushion changed people.”
“What does that mean?”
Arthur stared into the distance.
“You weren’t ready.”
Leonard looked offended.
“I was there.”
“No.”
“I was.”
“You say there was a goat.”
“There was.”
Denise shouted from the other side of the room.
“There was no goat.”
Everyone went quiet.
She pointed at them.
“I do not care what happened anymore. I only care that nobody discusses the goat near me.”
Arthur leaned toward Leonard.
“Strong feelings usually hide history.”
Denise heard him.
“Arthur.”
He stopped.
Walt eventually crossed to Evelyn’s chair.
She looked at the trophy.
“Congratulations.”
He studied her.
“That sounded almost sincere.”
“It was mostly sincere.”
“Mostly?”
“You did catch me.”
“Yes.”
“Eventually.”
“Yes.”
“After grapefruit.”
He sighed.
“Yes.”
“After foam.”
“Yes.”
“After accusing mayonnaise.”
“I did not accuse mayonnaise. I asked the brand.”
“You climbed under my breakfast table.”
“Bent.”
“You were horizontal.”
“Details.”
Evelyn held out her hand.
Walt shook it.
Her grip was firm.
“You could have beaten me without cheating,” he said.
“Maybe.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
He appreciated the answer more than he wanted to.
She nodded toward the trophy.
“Enjoy it.”
“I intend to.”
“Quietly?”
“No.”
“I assumed.”
Walt looked at her phone.
“You really named them?”
“Yes.”
“The Duchess?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“The original name was vulgar.”
“This is a fart app.”
“That does not mean we abandon standards.”
Walt stared at her.
For one dangerous second they understood each other.
Then she added, “Cathedral Number Four would have beaten you.”
He walked away.
The following morning, Denise taped a new notice beside the dining-hall entrance.
Walt stopped to read it.
Hal stopped beside him.
The notice said:
REVISED RULES FOR FUTURE SHADY ACRES WIND INSTRUMENT INVITATIONALS
ALL COMPETITIVE SOUNDS MUST BE NATURALLY GENERATED AND ORIGINATE FROM THE CONTESTANT’S PERSON.
NO PHONES, TABLETS, SPEAKERS, RECORDING DEVICES, SOUND-EFFECT APPLICATIONS, OR OTHER ELECTRONIC SOUND-PRODUCING EQUIPMENT MAY BE ACTIVATED DURING A COMPETITIVE ATTEMPT.
CONTESTANTS MAY NOT DISMANTLE COMPETITION FURNITURE.
Walt pointed at the third rule.
“That is aimed directly at me.”
Hal nodded.
“It might be the clearest rule here.”
“I performed a reasonable inspection.”
“You held foam over your head.”
“You keep saying that as though context does not matter.”
“It was yellow foam.”
“I remember the foam.”
Denise passed behind them with coffee.
“Good morning.”
Walt pointed at the notice.
“Rule three is punitive.”
“It is preventive.”
“Rule one proves I was right.”
“Rule one exists because Evelyn cheated.”
“Which I discovered.”
“You also discovered that cushions contain foam.”
“People mock investigation until it works.”
Denise kept walking.
Hal looked at the clipboard under her arm.
Electronic Butt Impersonation remained the final entry.
He smiled.
Walt carried the trophy into the dining hall.
Hal stopped.
“You brought it to breakfast.”
“People wanted to see it.”
“Who?”
“Residents.”
“Name one.”
Walt kept walking.
“People are naturally curious.”
“Name one curious person.”
“Marjorie.”
“She already photographed it six times.”
“Exactly. Interest.”
Evelyn was sitting at their usual table.
She had grapefruit.
Walt looked at it.
Evelyn saw him looking.
“Don’t.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to say grapefruit has been cleared.”
“By whom?”
“Me.”
“Excellent. I was losing sleep.”
Walt placed the trophy on the table.
Evelyn looked at it.
“Subtle.”
“Residents deserve access to history.”
“We live in the same hallway.”
“That’s proximity, not access.”
Hal sat.
“I’m getting toast.”
“You just sat down.”
“I reconsidered.”
Walt poured coffee.
“Three championships create a certain responsibility.”
Evelyn buttered her toast.
“Do they?”
“You become part of the institution.”
“You live here.”
“Competitively.”
“There is no competitive wing.”
“There could be.”
“No.”
“Leonard has ideas.”
“Leonard wanted to score the speaker.”
“It had better command than Stanley.”
Stanley yelled from another table.
“I heard that.”
Walt lifted his coffee.
“The point is, records survive controversy.”
Evelyn sipped her tea.
“Especially when the person holding the record carries the trophy to breakfast.”
“I didn’t want it unattended.”
Hal returned with toast.
“You sleep twenty feet from the trophy cabinet.”
“Security is a mindset.”
“You are going to sleep with it beside your bed again.”
“I displayed it on my dresser.”
“You put your glasses on it.”
“So I would see it in the morning.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Normal.”
Walt ignored her.
“You can mock this now. The record will show three consecutive championships.”
“With an asterisk.”
“No.”
“Marjorie is drawing one.”
“Marjorie has no authority.”
“Leonard supports it.”
“Leonard thinks finish is a category.”
“Finish should be a category.”
Walt stared.
“You have switched sides.”
“I’m retired from sides.”
“You cheated yesterday.”
“And I’m already tired of discussing it.”
Walt leaned back.
“Machines should never do a human being’s job.”
Hal buttered his toast.
“You are going to put that on a shirt.”
“I might.”
Evelyn looked at the trophy.
“Three-Time Champion: Natural Division?”
Walt considered it.
“That’s not bad.”
“There is no natural division.”
“There will be if Leonard starts an electronic one.”
From across the dining hall Leonard called, “I heard that.”
Denise called from the coffee station.
“No electronic division.”
Leonard lowered his head.
Walt smiled.
“Integrity prevailed.”
Evelyn drank her tea.
“Of course.”
“Talent prevailed.”
“Certainly.”
“Experience prevailed.”
“Yes, Walter.”
“You can’t fool an experienced man.”
“Apparently you can for four days.”
He frowned.
“That is not the point.”
“What is the point?”
Walt rested one hand beside the trophy.
“Some people simply possess natural talent.”
An enormous fart erupted.
Every head in the dining hall turned toward Evelyn.
Evelyn slowly raised both hands.
Empty.
“My phone is in my room.”
Walt sat back with a satisfied smile.
“You see? Some people simply possess natural talent.”
The sound happened again.
Everyone turned toward Leonard.
Leonard sat perfectly still.
His expression had gone blank with surprise.
He looked down at his own lap.
Then he slowly reached for the scorecard beside his coffee.
“Exceptional finish,” he said. “Strong narrative structure.”