I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but I sure as hell remember farting. That’s when I woke up, you know.
I am really conscious of making a ruckus out of flatulence, particularly after chomping through entire fields of onions and garlic. It has to be discrete, you know?
Farts bring out the most absurd in human behaviour. It is probably ranked way higher than even belching, yawning or stretching.
I can imagine.
The trick is to let it out in pauses; small, controlled bursts of espionage. When the first nose is crinkled, you shouldn’t figure on that nose’s list of suspects. It’s not an easy job, as any fat guy will tell ya.
We, in our daily lives, face a barrage of social situations wherein the social protocol dictating that the other person(s) not recognize your fart kicks in. Millions of people put their pants at risk daily and save the world. Some will rush into washrooms and unleash the perfume, while yet others have perfected the aforementioned espionage.
There still remains one threat to our mission as humans: the poop fart, known in the intellectual circles as ‘shart’.
Men of the mind, men of science have devoted their resources to countering this force of nature and make the world a better place. They are a shining example of Human Will, trying to open doors for all humanity.
Dude, that was me. I just farted. See? You did not even know. The next time you smell one, just close your eyes in acknowledgement of one of the many nameless artists the world has seen.