A Merry Stinking Christmas Fart and a Happy Shat My Undercrackers New Year (An End of Year Smell Dream)

A Merry Stinking Christmas Fart and a Happy Shat My Undercrackers New Year (An End of Year Smell Dream)

He was waking from a dream. A dream filled with low rumbling sounds, factory pollution and the deep vibrating hum of the universe. The images faded as his mind transitioned into reality. The noise continued. Even when he opened his eyes, the noise continued. Maybe there are road works going on outside, he thought. But no that was impossible. There were no roads around here for miles. As his senses came fully online it became apparent what the noise was. He was farting. Indeed, he was farting so loud that it had woken him from the dead of sleep. He now sat upright in bed. About 10 seconds had passed and still a furore of malodorous demon breath issued forth from his pyjama bottoms. The edge of his quilt was flapping like a flag in the wind at the end of his bed. Eventually his sick breeze came to an abrupt halt. He dove for the window and lifted it fully open in a hurried frenzy amidst his sleep inertia. He didn’t want to allow his nose to catch up to his wakefulness and experience the full onslaught of the foul hot box he had created for himself.

After giving the room a little time to air he rolled out of bed and slipped into yesterdays clothes. Pinching his chin between thumb and forefinger he considered changing the underwear he had worn to bed. Not all of that fart was dry, he mused. He resolved to change them only if someone else pointed out the smell to him. For breakfast he had two Mars bars that he dipped in milk. And some toast with the jam spread thicker than the bread. He dipped two fingers into the jam jar for a customary dollop before returning the lid half sealed. Today was Saturday. So, after breakfast he sat down in front of the television, peeled the remote from the couch and tuned into his favourite cartoons.

Soon he would be leaving for his girlfriend’s parents’ house for Christmas dinner. This was somewhat problematic for him because of his unusual flatulent condition. However, he was rather adept at surviving most social situations with various techniques he had devised for hiding his “extra loudies” and his “mega smellers”. He hadn’t yet wrapped his girlfriend’s present but he could always take five minutes in a spare room and wrap it while he was there. Doing things last minute was the only way he ever got anything done.

His girlfriend was already at her parents’ house so he would be driving over there by himself. This suited him because it would give him time to assess the state of his bowels. Ten minutes into to the drive all four car windows were down. Which also meant he had to turn the radio up full blast to cover the sound. If he didn’t do this people would often suggest that he take his car to the garage on account of the strange noise his engine was making. But it wasn’t his engine, only he knew that it was his thundering arse.

He arrived late and dinner was already being laid out on the table where the family sat.  He introduced himself to his girlfriends parents and grandparents. He scanned the table for foods that may betray him. Foods that would add fuel to a potential atomic reek fest. He simply could not allow that to happen. He had to make a good first impression. The feast that lay before him was a who’s who of food that would definitely make him fart like fuck. His heart sunk. The table was tiny, the seats were wooden, none of the windows were open not even a single candle was burning. What could he do? Fake a stomach ache and not eat anything or better yet leave? No. He had to see this through. It would be challenging, perhaps the most difficult thing he had ever done in his life. All he had to do was make it through the next few hours without being the undeniable culprit of a massive fart. His well-developed diversion strategies would see him through. He just had to have faith in his abilities.

His stomach was already bubbling as he made small talk. His condition exacerbated by the stress of his situation. His first course of action was to allow this first wave of gas to seep in a continuous stream whilst simultaneously chatting away to the grandparents. The trick was to keep the bum cheeks parted throughout the expulsion and slighted lifted away from the hard, amplifying wood of the chair. This took some leg strength and a subtle sensitivity in the cheeks, but he was well practiced. It was also imperative to keep the hands busy and the mouth talking to serve as a sort of misderection. He relaxed after five long seconds of silent seepage. Hopefully a table full of hot food would cover the smell.

He had barely dished himself out a plate of food when he felt the next one brewing. This was bad news. The Grandmother had made frequent enquiries about eggs since his last fart.

“Is that boiled eggs I smell? I could really go a boiled egg. Eggs aren’t very Christmassy, why did you cook them?”

He wished she’d just shut the hell up. The next fart seemed to be brewing slowly. He thought he could control it in the same way he had the first one but at the last second it moved towards his now expectant and gaping butt hole with unprecedented speed. The fart slammed hard against the seat of the chair. He acted on instinct. The gas had barely made contact with the wood when, with a mouth full of turkey and broccoli, he burst into an impromptu Carol spitting some of his food out in the process.

“I’M DREAMING OF A WHIIIIITE CHRISTMAAAAAS”.

To his relief the old Granda joined in and sang the next line with a chuckle. A change in the density of the air told him that the fart to air ratio was reaching a critical point. Soon the stink would be undeniable. However, that did not implicate him as the perpetrator. The pressure within him was building again, double quick this time. He could only contain so much so he let it out in short one second bursts. Each fart was louder than the last and each time he attempted to cover the noise.

“Absolutely (BLAHP) delicious food!”

“BLOODY cold (PRAPAPpapapap) today, isn’t it?!”

He was starting to sweat now and he was drawing some startled looks. In an act of desperation, he whacked his forehead off the edge of the table to cover the sound of a particularly loud one.

“WOOPSEE. (FLAABOBOBO) SLIPPED!”, he cried out through a pained grin.

Now his girlfriend, resting a hand on his arm spoke up. “Darling are you having stomach problems? We might have some WindSetlers in the cupboard.

“Stomach problems?? What are you talking about?” (PRAPALABOLO). That one went completely uncovered. “I think there’s something wrong with your pipes you should get them checked out!” He said pointing to the walls with a little too much desperation in his voice. The room smelled like all the food had suddenly gone off. The family just stared at him. Now the father had something to say “Look, son..” but that was as far as he got. An exceptional volume of putridity was on its way from Buttsville.

“NAAAAANT INGONYAMAAAA (RRRRRRRRABBOBPLAPPLAPPLAPUBOBIBO) BAGITHI BABAAAAAAAA!!!”.

“Lion King! I fuckin love that movie!”

“You know you can use the toilet, it’s just up stairs on your left” said the mother, willing him to go.

“I will. I’ll go to the toilet but only because I need to pee, nothing else just a pee. Too much coffeeEEEEEEEEEEE (FRRRRRRRPP) EEEeee. Need (BLORT) to (FLOMP) cut (BRLABIT) down to be honest”.

And with that he left the living room and made his way to the toilet. He could hear the grandmother retching as he left.

Now that he was in the toilet he could breathe easy. He believed he’d managed to detract all attention away from his accursed pipe. He grabbed all the towels available, folded them and stacked the about 3 feet high. This would act as a silencer for his arse. The extractor fan was also reassuringly loud. He sat, relaxed, and let loose. He must have sitting there for a while because there was a knock at the door.

“You OK, honey?” It was his girlfriend.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” He said, with mock confusion.

“Oh, no reason” she said.

It occurred to him that he still had to wrap her present.

“Hey. Could you bring me up the wrapping paper and some tape and scissors? Just leave them outside the door”

“Sure. No problem” She said, and he heard her leave.

Once he was sure his backside had abated he stood up and inspected the towels. What he saw almost brought him to tears. He had burned a large hole through every layer of towel. He poked his arm through the ring of towels in disbelief. This isn’t so bad he told himself. The first chance I get I’ll buy new ones. There’s literally nothing else I can do. With that thought he left bathroom and dumped the towels in a hallway cupboard. His girlfriend had brought the requested items and left outside the bathroom door. He took the wrapping stuff into a spare room and sat at the end of the bed feeling a bit dejected. He was exhausted. How can I keep this up? He had only just begun unravelling the wrapping paper when there was a knock at the door. His bowels shifted again like tectonic plates. That Coca Cola Christmas music spontaneously started playing in his head. Instead of “Holidays are coming” the words were “Stinky farts are coming” played out by an ominous choir.

“Hello?” said a tentative voice from behind the door.

It was the mother. Shit shit shit. The sudden panic had his bladder inflating like an expanding universe. The door was creeping open. In a flailing panic and thinking on the spot he whipped the wrapping paper open like he would a wet pair of jeans before hanging them up to dry and unravelled the entire role. In a mad rush of arms and wrapping paper and incredible but bizarre contortions of his body he began to wrap his fart as it came out. This all happened in a blink of an eye he could barely believe what he was doing.

“Oooooh. Look at that. That’s the biggest Christmas present I’ve ever seen she’ll be delighted” Said the mother.

He could barely comprehend what was going on. Eventually his eyes began to focus on the massive sphere of wrapping paper that stood before him. It nearly touched the ceiling.

“I’ll take it down and put it by the tree. I don’t think it will fit underneath it. Wow! It’s so light. What could it be?” she said gleefully.

He didn’t protest. He just watched it all happen as if from outside his own body. He followed behind her to the living room. He didn’t know if he even cared what happened next. He was almost curious. He watched as the family “oohd” and “aaahd”. He watched his girlfriends face light up with joy. He watched the Dad gently poke at the “gift” with a confused look on his face. He watched as the family cat appeared out of nowhere making a B line for the gift and begin to bat it about the living room.

“Oi you stop that. That’s my present not yours, you cheeky little scamp” said his girlfriend.

That cat wasn’t listening. At some point a claw must have caught the wrapping paper and pierced it. A thin blast of pressurised fart hit the cat full on the face. For a few seconds it seemed to be paralysed in shock and then it simply passed out on the spot.  He watched the wrapping deflate. He could see water filling every eye in the room. Then, all at once every member of the family projectile vomited. He slipped away from the ensuing anarchy for some fresh air outside. He saw his car and wondered if he should just drive home. This was surely the end of his relationship. After all that has happened how can I be considered anything other than a complete psychopath?

He resolved to go back inside. The family to his surprise were all sitting around the dinner table chatting quite calmly. He was relieved to see the cat had regained consciousness. He got their attention by blasting out a short sharp fart.

“Look guys. I fart a lot. I ruined your Christmas. I’m sorry”.

His girlfriend gestured for him to take his seat at the table. So, he sat.

It was the Grandfather who spoke now.

“Son. Everybody farts. Now I’m going to show you something. A family secret which has been passed down for generations. You have proven yourself worthy. My Granddaughter has chosen wisely”.

And at that moment the family all held hands around the table. His girlfriend took one of his hands and the mother took the opposite hand. Then it seemed to him that the house began to shake. A number of things all happened at once. The seat of the chair he was sitting on retracted so that his rear end poked through. He could tell by the way that everyone shifted in the seats that this had happened to each and every chair. A hatch in the floor beneath the chair also opened revealing the earth under the house and letting in a cold breeze. The Grandfather spoke again. This time in a grand and ancient voice.

“Now my son. I want you to fart. We shall all fart together. For the love of each other and the love of our ancestors.”

And so, completely without inhibition. Without fear. And for the first time in his life with utter joy and exuberance, he closed his eyes and farted. They all farted together.  When he opened his eyes again he felt weightless. He was floating. No one was holding on to his hand so he floated freely around the living room.

His girlfriend beckoned him towards her

“Come and look out the window”.

He floated over to the window and gazed outside. They were in space. He could see the earth large and beautiful.

He turned to her

“I’ve shat myself”

She smiled

“Me too” she said. “Me too”

And they kissed.

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