When The Hurricane wasn't yet a hurricane, but she was more than A Storm Cloud – let's say she was A Tropical Depression – I picked her up after she spent the night with her friend, Artsy Fartsy.
You won't believe what happened, she told me. During supper last night Mrs. Fartsy farted really loud, like a motorboat. It was a big honking fbbbbbbbbbbbttttttttttttt. I started to giggle and had to make myself stop because they all sat there and pretended nobody let her rip!
I was shocked. Though we never made a big deal out of gas at our house, we didn't try to act as if we were too good to cut the cheese.
I find that the older I get, the more I fart. I'm not farting quite as much since I went on a high-protein diet. It was pretty bad for a while. I had to clench my cheeks in church or I knew I would drown out the the choir. I felt sorry for people walking behind me.
But I don't feign not farting. Better out than in, I always told the patients at the nursing home.
Farts are fun.
Infinities of love,