This takes me back.
I was reminded of the following story after reading "Thanks for thinking of me, Rosie" by SherilinR.
It happened a few years ago and somehow got shuffled to the back of my mind.
There are many kinds of farts.
There are wet ones and dry ones; silent ones that kill and raspy ones that merely bludgeon; squeaky ones and ones that go'BLART'; there are whistlers, hisser's, popper's and phut-er's.
I have named but a few but there are many, many more that people just don't seem willing to talk about.
At some time or other, we have all send a shock wave reverberating through a sofa, causing innocents in the vicinity to 'ride the ripples', as it were, and to scatter for the safety of another place to rest their bum. I am pretty confident that when I say 'we are been guilty of having cleared a room after an ill judged expulsion' that I am one hundred percent correct.
Farting! Yes, well done if you had already guessed the subject of today's short prose.
I would like to invite you now, as I have done previously, to accompany me on a short jaunt into the past ... two years ago almost ... and re-visit with me a young man, who through no fault of his own, could not look after himself or carry out the most basic personal functions.
I would like to point out that he was not a client of mine and on this occasion I was only helping his elderly father clean him up after an 'accident' as a favour.
So, we have established that the young chap had had an 'accident'. This accident was brown and smelly.
His father couldn't do much as he was also disabled so, ever the hero, I volunteered to clean his son (who we will call John for the purpose of this tale) and dress him in clean clothes.
So ... I stripped him off and began cleaning. Rubber gloves, wet-wipes and tissues used aplenty.
His bottom was washed and thoroughly dried and as I applied a thin layer of talc I heard a rumbling emanating from John's stomach.
I was fairly close to his lower regions at this time as, in addition to cleaning him, I had to support his legs.
I was also unable to move myself rapidly from the vicinity as to prevent harm coming to John in the process.
I would like now to introduce you to an anomaly seldom witnessed by man or beast ... the bubble-fart!
He let rip!
There was a hissing noise and the sound of more gut rumblings as slowly ... from my perspective, very slowly ... a brown bubble began to emerge from John's bottom!
Like chocolate bubble-gum emerging from a child's mouth, the bubble grew and grew.
John's father could only laugh at my predicament. There I was ... facing this ever growing bubble that I just knew would burst and engulf me in a cloud of gas that would be deemed illegal by the Geneva Convention, not to mention the brown stuff.
And burst it did!
It went 'pop' ... literally!
His thighs were liberally spattered with a thin layer of poo and an odour much akin to that of brussel sprouts and BBQ sauce hit me with full force.
I almost lost my eyebrows but I was spared the mini poo shower that I feared!
John's father erupted into guffaws of delight. Tears streamed down his face as I strained to create as much distance between myself and John's disgusting orifice as possible.
Tears also came to my eyes ... but I sure as hell wasn't laughing!
That was my first, and luckily my only encounter with a bubble fart to date.
I do not want to experience one ever again
About This Blog
This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!
The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.
I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.
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