I fart. Quite a bit. I think they're hilarious. I used to consider myself as one of the pre-eminent flatu-artists (yes, I just made that word up) in the world. I like to pose for them, to increase timbre and depth. My favorite pose is one I call The Kerrigan.
Now, as impressive as I can be with my feats of anal gas legerdemain, I know now I am not the best in the world. For all my poses, and situational awareness (if I'm ever near my dog or cats...or sometimes one of my kids, and I feel one coming, they're getting cropdusted ), I was bested yesterday at work.
A gentleman that I work with (who is definitely not MIKE) and I will sometimes try to squeak out little butt reports to each other while at our desks. There's a subtlety to it, one that he is actually considerably better at than I am. His control is remarkable, and dwarfs my own.
Yesterday, however, this person WHO IS NOT MIKE, raised the bar.
Just as everyone was getting up to leave for the day...it arrived. I say arrived, because the grandeur of NOT MIKE's masterpiece cannot be overstated. It was loud. And deep. Soulful.
Normally only NOT MIKE and I are aware of these little blasts. Everyone heard this one. I'm pretty sure people in the next room could have heard it.
It must have been like Caesar returning to Rome after defeating Pompey and his legions. If the Beastie Boys had heard it, they would probably sample it for use on their next album. Just...one of the most impressive single farts I have ever heard, especially given the situation.
If I was the Mike you were referring to in this blog, I would be very proud of this. I am honored.... err he must be honored. I think he would say thanks for this.
ReplyDelete