Olaf was a curious lad. He had a habit of smelling every person he met. Rather than a quick whiff in passing, he would inhale a deep breath through the nostrils to try and discern the other’s true nature. Many of his conclusions were spot on. A panhandler who smelled of clean aftershave turned out to be only a part-timer. The frat boy who made wild passes at the young lady had clear breath and only pretended to be drunk. That young lady who sweated the frat boy’s advances was actually pregnant but didn’t know it. So when Olaf took up bartending, both his curiosity for new scents and his interest in human behavior could be satisfied.
One Friday night during the busiest time of the season, an anxious gentleman in suit and tie walked in through the front doors. A strange scent, never before sniffed, had followed in his wake. At first, Olaf thought of some foreign cigarette brand mixed with in some exotic oils but the emanation had been clearly masked by the odor of heavy perspiration of a nervous and almost terrifying sort. What was this man hiding? As the thought wracked his mind, Olaf caught the final whiff that would solve the puzzle. Without a moment to lose, he grabs the nearby fountain hose and aims it straight at the man’s chest. Time slows to a near standstill as the gentleman shuts his eyes in a death-like repose. He mutters in a thin whisper…
“S…a…k…e…, S……A……K……E……, SAKE-BOMB!!!” right before the torrent of water douses the explosive-laden jacket and knocks him out cold. In the aftermath of the attempted suicidal bombing, the investigators inquired as to what tipped off the assailant. Olaf responded, “I smelled gunpowder. LOTS and LOTS of gunpowder”.
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