I never met a fart I didn’t like, no wait, let me rephrase that, I never met a fart that scared me, I mean really creeped me out. My husband’s gas can clear a room in a nanosecond, I wouldn’t say I like them, but they don’t scare me, per say.
Last night I took my step mom out for dinner and a pedicure, it was a late birthday outing that was way over due. After the pedicure we stopped by my place of employment, an emergency room in the downtown area. We took them egg salad sandwiches and chips, something I do every now and then. Usually they are slammed and hungry and since I was going that way I decided it would a good way to use up all of those extra eggs left over from Easter.
After delivering the food and saying goodbye to my co-workers we decided to head out to the Country Club Plaza for dinner. As we were leaving the parking lot it was quiet in the van as I navigated my way out of the construction-riddled streets and back onto the main road. It was then that I encountered what would be later be deemed, the scariest fart of my life.
All of the sudden from the back of the vehicle roared the sounds of flatulence from an unknown source. The sound was unmistakable, and yes, it was definitely coming from the back of my van. I stopped the car, we stared at each other holding our breath, half expecting some bean eating vagrant to pop up and demand our money while yelling, “There’s more where that came from lady!” But nothing, silence, and then it came again, “Braaaapppp.” So it was at this point that I physically removed myself from the van to inspect the trunk area. Nothing. I was seriously expecting to find a co-worker playing a prank, but no, just a bag of junk filled with odds and ends. As I looked more closely at the bag and its contents, relieved that we weren’t going to be killed by the gassy bandit after all, I see the culprit.
It was a gag gift I had purchased last year at Spencer’s gifts, The Fart Machine. The malfunctioning fart machine had taken my breath away, as many farts in my past had done, but for an entirely different reason. Later, as my mom and I laughed she said something to the effect of how it would have been a funny way to be caught in a crime had it actually been the boisterous bandit we thought it was. I agreed and made sure to turn the switch to off and stow the machine in the glove compartment. I don’t know where the remote is, and after that hair-raising experience, I am not sure I want to:-)