Flatulence. That glorious expulsion of sulfurous gases to the sweet symphony of organs, pipes, whistles and the rolling of drums, that causes one to sigh with immediate relief followed by almost equally immediate feelings of repulsion and self-disgust.
One lazy Saturday morning, as I lay in bed overcoming a vicious hangover, passing a stream of wind without much resistance under the heavy warmth of my goose down comforter my thoughts naturally turned to farts (for the lack of a better term). And as I am inclined to do, I dedicated the better part of an hour to these thoughts, every so often raising a cheek to cut one (I was unusually gassy that morning. This is not a Saturday morning ritual in case you are wondering). Alas this was not the best course of action, but really who is at their best on Saturday mornings? So anyway as I finally get up to take a leak, tossing the comforter off with a casual flick of my hand, I am hit with what can only be described as a fog of such palpable, suffocating density that my body instinctively recoiled at the first inhalation of this vaguely spicy smelling gas and my head snapped back in such a sharp manner that I banged it against my headboard.
Having overcome my initial shock, I rubbed my head rather gingerly as I gathered my wits. Of course my natural reaction was then to let out a little chuckle and a shake of the head that could be translated to “you devil!” Well anyway, I aired out my room and all that and then went to prepare some food. Refried beans; Breakfast of champions.
One lazy Saturday morning, as I lay in bed overcoming a vicious hangover, passing a stream of wind without much resistance under the heavy warmth of my goose down comforter my thoughts naturally turned to farts (for the lack of a better term). And as I am inclined to do, I dedicated the better part of an hour to these thoughts, every so often raising a cheek to cut one (I was unusually gassy that morning. This is not a Saturday morning ritual in case you are wondering). Alas this was not the best course of action, but really who is at their best on Saturday mornings? So anyway as I finally get up to take a leak, tossing the comforter off with a casual flick of my hand, I am hit with what can only be described as a fog of such palpable, suffocating density that my body instinctively recoiled at the first inhalation of this vaguely spicy smelling gas and my head snapped back in such a sharp manner that I banged it against my headboard.
Having overcome my initial shock, I rubbed my head rather gingerly as I gathered my wits. Of course my natural reaction was then to let out a little chuckle and a shake of the head that could be translated to “you devil!” Well anyway, I aired out my room and all that and then went to prepare some food. Refried beans; Breakfast of champions.
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