Blue Flame

I'll tell you all about my walks this weekend, but quickly:  A story.

 

Shana and I went to Chipotle for lunch, where we shared a booth.  The interior of Chipotle is designed like an upscale junkyard - corrugated aluminum paneling, lacquered plywood chairs and benches - all very stark and echo-y.

 

So Shana's across from me, talking about her life's path, resting one foot on my seat.  I have to fart.  And I think, "How wicked would it be if I just let it out?  It's loud in here, no one will notice.

 

Bluhbluhbluhbububububububububububububububububububuuuuut!

 

This fart was a Level 5 CheekQuaker. 

 

I didn't think Shana would catch on...until I saw her shift in her seat.  My ears were still ringing from the rumble, my mind spinning from the sheer joy of anonymous flatulence, so I didn't hear the first few sentences she uttered post-fart.

 

"What?"  Quoth I.

 

"I felt that."

 

"Felt what?"

 

"The bench rumble when you farted..."

 

"What!  You felt that!"

 

"In my foot.  Then I saw the look on your face, like a baby that's trying to poop."

 

Then I laughed and LAUGHED.  Because nothing is funnier to me than a fart among friends.  It truly made my day.

 

Now I can't stop.  I had loads of fiber last night, a high-fibe cereal this morning, beans at Chipotle, AND Diet Coke.  I'm burp n' fart factory.  I imagine my bowels operating like a bouncy cartoon tugboat in my belly.  The human body is an amazing machine.

 

 

 

So there's that,

 

Laura