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[Elena]

Like everything in life, farts have a time and place. However, I never realized that in the wrong time and place, flatulence had enough power to alter my course in history. Well, it can if it's the third date with the man of your dreams. And, if it makes his eyes burn. If God destined us to be together, I was one SBD away from foiling His plans (that's “Silent But Deadly” for you prudes).

It was about five years ago. I was trying to lose a few pounds so I was staying away from carbs. That's when I met my husband, Rob. On our first date, he booked the next two. He liked me. I liked him. Things were looking real good.

He picked me up in a Cobra, Mustang and his pathetic attempt to win me over with a car totally worked. I'm not shallow, but since I spent most of my twenties picking men up because I didn't want my hair to frizz in their non-air conditioned jalopies on 3 wheels and a 15 year old spare, I welcomed his fancy sports car with open arms.

We arrived at the restaurant and Rob was ordering food I hadn't allowed myself to eat in years. I didn't want to be “that girl” so I ate, drank, and oh, was I merry. Later we shopped a bit. Rob surprised me by buying an expensive pair of shoes that he caught me eyeing. Was this love?

That's when it happened. Gas strikes in two different ways – uncontrollable toots or sharp, shooting pains that feel a lot like dying. I thought I was dying. Not to make a scene, I told Rob I suddenly wasn't feeling well and probably needed to head home.

On the way home in his Cobra, he tried to hold my hand and ask me lots of questions, but I wasn't having any of it. The pain was so bad it felt like I was being stabbed with a bunch of tiny forks. Then I realized …

My God, help me. I have a horrendous fart on deck. I'm in trouble. Big trouble.

HOW DO YOU TELL A MAN YOU JUST STARTED DATING, THAT THE REASON YOU ARE WRITHING IN PAIN IS BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO FART.

The more I held it in, the more pain would shoot through my stomach and down my legs. I was even having to raise myself off the seat, gripping on to my door and the dashboard.

“Seriously, you need to hurry – I'm in a lot of pain.” I managed to say through gritted teeth.

“Wow, it's that bad? What's wrong? Do I need to take you to a hospital?”

How do you tell a man you just started dating that the reason you're writhing in pain is because you have to fart?

Well, you can either tell him, or like me, let the fart speak for itself.

People, hear me. There was nothing I could do. As impressive as I am with sphincter control, this was out of my hands. Slowly, it eeked out. The more I tried to stop it, the more it forced its way through the door. However, to my pleasant surprise, there was no sound. I sat silently, sweat accumulating above my upper lip. Ok, maybe I got away with it. Maybe I'm home free. Then it hit me. Not an idea, a cloud. A horrific, fart cloud. Not in a, “am I smelling something?” sort of way. More like a “is someone dead and rotting in your trunk and am I in hell?” sort of way.

Suddenly, I panicked. “Roll down the windows!” I screamed (yes, I literally screamed it like I was in a horror movie).

“What? Why?” Rob asked, starting to freak out because I was freaking out.

“I can't roll down the windows, unlock it! UNLOCK IT!”

“What's going on?” Rob yells back to me, “Why are you …” then it hit him. I could see it in his eyes. Was it surprise? Horror? Water started to accumulate at the base of his eyelids, “Oh my God, I CAN TASTE IT!” he screamed.

“Roll down the windows!” As I screamed, the toots started to flood out uncontrollably. I scratched and clawed at the window like I was being kidnapped. Rob, unable to see either by fart cloud or panic, kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of unlocking the window.

It was chaos. We were acting like we were under siege by gun fire. We were under siege alright, just not by gun fire.

Finally he was able to hit the right control and he rolled down our windows. We both gulped in fresh air. I was horrified, yet happy to be alive, then remembered I just farted on the man of dreams, then sorta wished I was dead.

We sat silently for the rest of the way home. Although the shooting pains had subsided, I now desperately needed to use the bathroom, in an urgent, explosive kind of way.

He pulled up to my apartment and before he could come to a stop I had already jumped out, “Ok, thanks for dinner, sorry about the fart, love the shoes!” and ran in to my apartment like I was running from the cops.

I burst through my door and ran straight for the bathroom, where I was finally able to unleash and make noises that no one should ever, EVER, hear coming from another person.

Then I heard it. Rob's voice. Right. Outside. My. Bathroom. Door.

“Anna? You left your shoes in my car and your front door was open. Where do you want me to put them?”

“Get away from the door!” I scream like Reagan from The Exorcist.

“Ok, I'm sorry. Are you okay?”

*toot* *toot* *splatter* *ungodly noise*

“I'm fine, Rob – just leave the shoes there. I'll call you later okay?”

“Okay, are you sure you're …”

“I'm fine! Get away from the door!”

This man! I mean, I love him, but take a freakin' hint!

Finally, I heard the front door shut, and the Cobra engine zoom away. I thought that was the last I'd hear from him. I didn't think it was possible to ever see a man again after he screams he can taste your fart after only knowing you for 48 hours.

But, to my surprise, I did. A couple days later, actually. Now we're married and he's lying on the couch while I type this. 

[Elena]

One day I met a sweet woman and fell in love. When it became apparent that we would marry, I made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans.
Some months later, on my birthday, my car broke down on the way home from work. Since I lived in the countryside I called my wife and told her that I would be late because I had to walk home. On my way, I passed by a small diner and the odour of baked beans was more than I could stand. With miles to walk, I figured that I would walk off any ill effects by the time I reached home, so I stopped at the diner and before I knew it, I had consumed three large orders of baked beans. All the way home, I made sure that I released all the gas.
Upon my arrival, my wife seemed excited to see! me and exclaimed delightedly: "Darling I have a surprise for dinner tonight."
She then blindfolded me and led me to my chair at the dinner table. I took a seat and just as she was about to remove my blindfold, the telephone rang. She made me promise not to touch the blindfold until she returned and went to answer the call. The baked beans I had consumed were still affecting me and the pressure was becoming most unbearable, so while my wife was out of the room I seized the opportunity, shifted my weight to one leg and let one go. It was not only loud, but it smelled like a fertilizer truck running over a skunk in front of a pulpwood mill. I took my napkin from my lap and fanned the air around me vigorously. Then, shifting to the other cheek, I ripped off three more. The stink was worse than cooked cabbage. Keeping my ears carefully tuned to the conversation in the other room, I went on like this for another few minutes. The pleasure was indescribable. When eventually the telephone farewells signalled the end of my freedom, I quickly fanned the air a few more times with my napkin, placed it on my lap and folded my hands back on it feeling very relieved and pleased with myself. My face must have been the picture of innocence when my wife returned, apologizing for taking so long. She asked me if I had peeked through the blindfold, and I assured her I had not. At this point, she removed the blindfold, and twelve dinner guests seated around the table chorused: "Happy Birthday!"

[honeybun]

Oh my.


Just brilliant.



Honeyb
X

[CLKD]

 

[Joyce]

 

[ladybug50]

 

[Evenstar]

 ;DHad tears rolling down my cheeks

[Meggie]

Even my OH folded up laughing at this

Brilliant

Meggie

[ellie]

Hahaha very funny

[Heron]

Oh, thank you. I REALLY needed a laugh ....

[valiantkate]

I was on a health kick and had consumed a 'bean casserole' the previous night. It was really nice. anyway.... the following day it was having an undesired effect. I was teaching a class- I had a classroom assistant. I couldn't hold this one in any loner, a real SBD - the focus being the 'deadly', it slid silently out of me. Urgh.'At least no one heard it' I thought as I vacated the immediate area of the SBD. (It was a badun) My classroom assistant screamed at one of the children "you dirty little devil!"- "go to the toilet right now". I looked at the child's face who was confused by her outburst. I turned round and faced her and said "you cant blame him ,he didn't do it, it was me". I don't know who was more embarrassed her or me, the children thought it was so funny and I got a round of applause as I beat a hasty retreat to the toilet!
 T ;)hat was about 15 years ago now and I still chuckle..

[Dyan]

 

[valiantkate]

Still cringing....

[butterfly13]

  ;Dbrilliant

Lynn

[Scampi]

Reminds me so much of an Open University Summer School - we (we being a group of 20-odd people ranging in age from 23 to 78 and background from living at home with unemployed parents to retired public school head-teacher) had spent a very enjoyable 4 days (thus far) at Edinburgh University studying all things Science, enjoying some wonderful food (healthy food too - lots of veg, pasta and pulses!!) and partaking of a small sherbert or two of an evening (HA!!).

So, Wednesday afternoon comes.  We are split into groups to work on posters and presentations for the end of the week - my group consists of me and 3 other women, and we got on like a house on fire (no, really - we got on amazingly well - like we'd been friends for years, not complete strangers until 3 days before).  Off we trot with our little hoard of crafting goodies to make the best poster about the action of glycolosis inhibitors the world has ever seen (yes - I know you don't have a clue what I just said, but go with it!!).  Anyway, after an hour or so, one lady - I'll call her Sue, but names have been changed to protect the innocent - (looking, it has to be said, a little less relaxed that she usually did) said she felt like some fresh air and she was goiung for a stroll round the lake outside the labs.  Of course, this sounded like a really good idea (weather was like it is now - hot and sunny), so we all said we'd join her .... after trying in vain to come up with a reason to go alone, Sue confessed that the diet had caught up with her and she needed to fart sooooo badly it was painful!!  After the ensuing gales of laughter had died down, we all went off for our relieving walk (after all - with that diet and the beer, we all knew exactly how Sue was feeling!).

About halfway round the lake, it started - one of us (can't remember who now) released a tiny 'poot' of a very lady-like fart .... and the rest of us collapsed in hysterics like naughty school children!!  Why are farts so funny - it's not like it's something unusual!.  Anyway, the floodgates (metaphorically speaking - this was a long time ago and we were all too young for pelvic floor issues!) opened with the laughter, and we proceeded around the lake in a slight fog of fermented pasta fumes!  Thank goodness we met no-one else out there - 4 grown women crying with laughter at the lower digestive tract's attempt at The Trumpet Voluntary may have taken a little explaining (although I have a sneaking suspicion that our 78-year old retired head-master, who saw going to bed on the same day you got up as a waste of good drinking time, may have joined in!!!).