You know what I’m talking about.
Standing there having a perfectly normal conversation. Walking through the grocery store and happening upon a cloud. Sitting in the car. Lounging on a stage during a read through. In church. During weddings. At meetings. During job interviews. They come and go as they please, never asking your permission, just…appear. And the worst ones are always at the most inopportune moments.
Ohh farts, you hilarious party stoppers.
One of my kids, who shall remain nameless, has been brewing a concoction like no other lately. Thankfully, said kid has a tell so we do get a little warning before the crop dusting happens. This kid giggles. Well, giggles and then covers his/her face.
I’m not talking funny little kid toots either. I’m talking the walking dead doing full on performances out of the back of the pants. Rude farts. Throwing elbows into the room and whipping you in the face before you even have a chance to prepare. Stealthy like ninjas. Green cloud ninjas.
It happened this morning again. The weather was complete and total downpour here and none of the kids wanted to wait outside for their buses so, being the benevolent ruler of the house that I am, I loaded them into my tiny car (this is an important detail. Small car = more concentration levels) and off we went. It really was pouring, but it wasn’t cold at all. On the contrary, we’re still getting some days in double digits here (YAY). And then it happened. The tell.
A low giggle rumbling out from my kid. A sleeve slowly raised to the face but immediately covering the mouth and nose of said kid.
“Roll down the window!” I yelled. I couldn’t take chances, it was already hard to see through all the rain and the wind was toying with my little car.
“I can’t, the rain will get in” this kid protested.
“You have to! WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!”
The window was rolled down and thankfully none were lost to the fumigation.
Now, in the aftermath of the assault, we actually had a good laugh. Farts are funny. Hey, even I can appreciate a good foghorn or a long musical note when it’s released with pride. But man, the silent and violent ones are the worst.
I had to tell my kid this story:
When I was a young teen, 12-15, I spent a lot of weekends in Guelph with my Aunt and two cousins to whom I was particularly close. One Sunday morning as we four sat in church, I myself was dropping silent ‘f’s through the whole service. They were low, warm, deadly bombs. It’s a miracle I didn’t start laughing as I’ve been known to do that in inappropriate circumstances. In the car on the way back to their house, my Aunt had a wrinkled face frown on. I asked her what was wrong and she said that they old lady in front of her had had really bad gas throughout the service and it was awful to sit through. Well then I laughed. I had to. My cousin leaned over and asked if it had been me and I couldn’t lie to her, which made her start laughing. That poor old lady. I still let her keep the blame in my Aunt’s eyes.
Anyway, I’d like to say that with the kids all in school for the day now, I don’t have to deal with anymore fanny burps, but that wouldn’t be true. Because I have three dogs and believe me when I tell you that when they lay down their own work, well, it’s a whole other measurement of stank.
Farts, man. Not much else is hilariously funny and yet horribly gross. Am I right?