A Poop Sandwich???

This last weekend, Matt and I went out to eat with some friends. I got an eggplant sandwich which had all sorts of yummy spring veggies, some aioli and melted provolone and other kinds of cheese on it. Anyway, I didn't finish my sandwich, so I got a box. I left my sandwich in the car while we went and played some games at our friends' house. Following our delightful game-playing session, Matt and I returned to the car. After a few minutes ride, Matt accused me of "letting one go". I swore on the Holy Bible that I didn't, and that it was probably just the stinky provolone on my sandwich...you know sometimes those cheeses really do kinda reek. Anyway, a few minutes more passed and I decided that the smell was a little too strong and a little too poop-like to have been my sandwich that was stinking up the joint, unless, of course, I had accidentally ordered a poop sandwich for dinner. Just a couple weeks earlier, Matt had tracked some dog poop into the car after having taken Lucy out, so I was paranoid that it had happened again. So, I checked my shoes, which were clear, and then suggested that Matt check his. He refused stating that there's NO WAY he could have done that twice. I said, "OK." and didn't push the issue cause I knew he'd get ticked. We continued to drive in silence, doing all we could to disregard/endure the foul odor. Matt finally stopped to get some gas and as he stepped out of the car, I screamed "YOU DID!!!!". I screamed so loud that Matt thought I had been shot. I was laughing hysterically, and was almost convulsing. Even though he denied it, I knew in my heart of hearts after determining that it wasn't my sandwich, that Matt, for the second time, had accidentally put on his poop-magnet shoes. Even though we had some cleanup to do, I was glad to know that I didn't eat a poop sandwich for dinner.