“So, what is it?”
“I’ve got a few questions to ask before I make a final diagnosis.”
“Ask away, doctor.”
“What were you doing at the time of the incident?”
“I was exploding planetoid 633 with my team.”
“Was it *all* that you were doing?”
“Yes.”
“Now, now. Don’t be coy with me. After all, I’m a doctor.”
“Oh… well… I was farting up a storm.”
“Disgusting!”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I took your revelation with the professional aplomb of a doctor.”
“Okay.”
“I think I can piece it all together now. As you were farting, your space suit was trying to prevent you from passing out.”
“Now, that’s a bit dramatic.”
“It was venting the noxious fumes…”
“Noxious fumes??”
“…into the atmosphere of the planetoid. That’s when this creature jumped at your rear end, burrowed into your space suit, and attached itself to your ass.”
“That’s plausible. I still object to the term noxious fumes, however.”
“Yes… your report of events confirms my hypothesis.”
“And what’s your hypothesis?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just reacting to the newest musical hit as it was coming on the radio ‘Your Report of Events Confirms My Hypothesis.’ I love this song. As for you, I’ve figured your case out.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. You’re the victim of a farthugger.”
“A what?”
“You know how your colleagues exploring another planetoid ended up with a face full of facehuggers?”
“Yes.”
“Same thing but this one feasts on farts.”
“Am I going to have a chestburster kill me?”
“No. The farthugger lives in symbiosis with its host. You’ll live a long and productive life as a chihuahua.”
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