March 24, 2008
Originally published July 26, 2003
I should get off my lazy ass and cut the grass today. Maybe I will. If I don't, the job will wait until tomorrow.
I fixed bacon, eggs and biscuits for breakfast this morning and one of the three (or the combination) made me quite windy. When I felt the first gut-rumbles, I told Quinton, "Pull my finger." He did, and I let loose a fart with a three-foot tail on it. The boys rolled on the floor laughing. Young men find farts very amusing.
They began attempting to "conjure" farts of their own by beating on their bellies and making horrible faces. I said, "THIS is how you do it," as I hiked one leg and let loose another thunderbolt. It was a nice 'un. No aroma but very loud.
I put those younguns to shame. I also told them that I would sit on them and deliver a direct dose if they screwed up today. They have minded me well ever since.
I just heard Quinton telling Jack "My daddy farts LOUD! Can YOUR daddy fart that loud?"
Jack replied, "Your daddy is the best farter I ever heard."
I have a claim to fame.
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