As I was in the bathroom this afternoon trying to do something with the gosh awful bird's nest known as my hair, Scooter came running into the room, turned so that his back side was facing me, bent over, and proceeded to emit the loudest example of flatulence I have heard yet while screaming, "Incoming!"
Why, are we, as a species so fascinated with the expulsion of gas from our rear ends? Is it because it sounds funny, it gives the "gunman" a means of clearing an entire room in one foul swoop, or is it because when one is sitting just right, a fart, instead of coming out straight into the environment can, in fact, travel frontward up between the legs thusly causing one's pants to blouson while the expelled air heats the neither regions?
I'm curious really at what point over the decades did the fart go from being taboo to a source of entertainment? I can remember back in the 70s being told I should not pass gas in front of a list of certain people or in certain places such as: church, a member of the opposite sex (unless that person was a member of one's household), or basically anywhere in public where the emission of this natural phenomena would lead to the embarrassment of my Mother.
However, my Mom's rules pertaining the regulation of gas passing evidently didn't apply to my father, especially on particularly long car drives. When I wasn't being subjected to second hand smoke, a fact I complained about non-stop which if I whined loudly enough resulted in the window being rolled down 1/8 inch, then when my Father felt "a good one coming on" it was usually when he had the heat up as high as it would go, chain smoking Marlboro's like there was no tomorrow. He would let it rip.
The fart would elicit a string of curse words from my Mom's mouth while my sister and I sat in the back seat trying not to throw up. That has to be one of the worse feelings ever for a little kid who gets motion sick easily. The combo of the car movement, cigarette smoke, and noxious butt fumes tended to overwhelm me and I would end up dry heaving. The entire time my Father continued to "laugh his a$$ off", so to speak.
Fast forward to the '90s and all of a sudden it seems that the ability to fart has been brought out of the closet into the public acceptance arena. There are shows with young men who attempt to light their farts, farting contests, etc. Now, here in the 21st century, everyone farts everywhere without regard for any of their fellow planet inhabitants.
From the recovery areas of the colonoscopy clinics to the aisles of Wal-Mart, the ability to fart is being heralded as perfectly acceptable public behavior. As a matter of fact, there is nothing I enjoy more while grocery shopping than to turn down an aisle only to enter the unseen death zone. I tell ya, nothing can clear an aisle like the lingering fragrance of a nasty broccoli fart. The smell does wonders for cutting short one's shopping trip thereby allowing the shopper to keep their purchases within their budget. The scent of a fart is particularly effective when left in the baking/sweet aisle for those of us trying to control our consumption of those carbs.
I knew when I had boys that sooner or later I was to be tormented by their farting antics; little did I know this behaviour, even with them being taught good manners, would persist well into their adulthood where they still like to torment their Mom with their gas passing abilities.
So, in such a case, what's a Mother to do? Why she loads herself up with soup beans and Mexican cornbread. She is in no hurry, she has all day. Everything is in there churning and she can feel the rumblings from down below, but she must wait until the time is right.
When does one know the time is right? Why the right time happens to coincide with the scheduled visit of my future-daughter-in-law! What's that sound? I believe I hear the back door opening. "Hi Ziggy and Zex, why don't you all come in and have a seat in the living room? I'll be right in", I say as a evil smile crosses my lips.
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