I truly try not to swear, I don’t like it when bad words roll off my tongue, and I certainly do not try to write about it. However, the other “F” word is okay to talk about, because it involves something we all do, no matter how straight-laced, upper class, or religious you might be. Yes, I am talking about the word Fart. We all do it, sometimes more loudly in private, but we do it. Some of us so loud, we can shake the very foundations of the earth. However, some people have it down to a science, as you are about to learn.
When I was little boy my mother demonstrated how you could relieve gas by laying flat on your belly and then raising your torso into the air so that your sphincter resembled Mount Vesuvius. I suppose the reason is that gas rises through your digestive system and escapes out the magma chamber. Now being a little boy I thought this was fun and I giggled with each little toot that came out. But, then I learned something. If you relax the sphincter muscle, air will rush in, and then you can push it back out. That’s right! FOD – Farting On Demand. Now this really had me chuckling to see how many FOD’s I could do. I am not sure if there is a world record for FOD’s, but I am sure I could compete quite well, with a final push and flurry on the last leg of the race. I’d call the Guinness folks, but I am afraid they’d slam down the phone thinking I was weird.
Then in high school I had two friends that thought farting was truly funny. We had names for the varieties, such as double and triple flutter-blast, the grim ripper, the fury flurry, on and on. Now being a bashful kinda guy, I wasn’t quite ready to display my art, my true talent – FODing. Then one night as the three of us shared a bed spending the night after a football game / party. No, we were not gay, just gassy happy. I decided it was time to demonstrate the technique because they didn’t believe a word I had told them. Let me tell you, 66 grim rippers later, my friends and even the parents down the hall were laughing their mount Vesuvius’s off. This was the last time I FOD OD’d – honestly! I’ve been clean ever since, although my wife might argue this.
I reconnected with one of those friends 33 years later on Facebook and we talked on the phone. He stated he would never have recognized me today from what I looked like in high school. Here’s a sample showing all you ladies what you missed.
Now of everything we did together, guess what he remembered the most? That’s right – my world record FODing attempt at his house. Well that’s just great, here I am trying to forget my FODing addiction’s past, gain readers for my fantasy novels, and my blog, and all I will be more remembered by is my skilled control of a bodily function.
My point is simple, we are ALL human and it is all absurd, so why not share your funniest and most embarrassing experiences with others. We all know we are going to become old farts, so why not talk about the wild days when you were a rough, tough and young slinging fodder.
Now for some fodder poetry:
Oh fodder, oh fodder
Was that a triple, or a double flutter?
Thou can hide them under cover,
but not when they roll like thunder.
Oh fodder, oh brother,
I learned this from my mother.
They can blow from the peak,
or slip from a one cheek sneak.
Oh beans, oh grains, oh lovely fruits
Thou greatly amplify these toots.
I may die as slow as a creeper,
But a rippers reserved for Mr. Reaper.
Now see the knowledge you gain by following me? Have lovely day. Please remember to smile and laugh. Pull someone’s finger. Let out a silent destroyer in Walmart. Trust me no one would ever think it was you, because you have at least 1,000 others culpable on the same aisle at anytime. Gotta love the people of Walmart.
For in the end it matters not, we are nothing more than gas in the wind. Come on, you know you do it, so what silly names have you created?