Seek the Source

In all lives there must fall some rain, and in every collection of stories there must be some that are inappropriate, and some that are just downright childish. If you are one of those people that is so puritanically crippled that a good fart story is offensive to you, then please stop reading now. In fact, stop reading altogether and never log on again. But I digress.

Marianne never ceases to amaze me but sometimes her Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (which is admittedly only mild most of the time) manifests itself in the most ridiculous ways. After having spent the last three years in Marianne's close company, and with a family in tow, a certain inexplicable habit of hers has revealed itself in a pattern of behaviour. The other day, Blair was having one of his flatulent days at the same time that Camille and Aiden were. Everyone has days like that but Blair's tend to be particularly assaulting to the olfactory senses. Marianne once called him 'Blart'. In an open yard, the offensive aroma can be escaped but in the close confines of our family van, even opening all of the windows offers only scant relief. Earlier in the day, at the dinner table, their tummy rumblings had already become obvious, much to the destruction of everyone's appetite. Later, when we were driving along towards some family objective, the van became absolutely untenable. We rolled down the windows and gasped for fresh air. Marianne, however, began contemplating. "*sniff*sniff* You know, we had hot dogs two nights ago. *sniff*sniff* But they all have a faster metabolism than that. *sniff*sniff* Maybe it was the combination of chocolate . . . *sniff* . . . and I think, . . . *sniff* oranges, that they had yesterday." And this is not the first time she has done this. While most people smell a fart and either try to escape its foul stench, or laugh at it, Marianne seems hell-bent on discovering the source - that elusive but specific combination of foods that someone must have ingested that might have resulted in just that particular stench. When she does it, it adds a certain extra level of discomfort to the odour as one imagines the entire digestive process, simultaneously funnier and more disgusting. I don't think she does it to torture us further, but she certainly revels in her detective-like deductions. She is like the Sherlock Holmes of fart sources. 'When you eliminate the impossible foods, whatever you is left, no matter how unlikely, must be the foods that caused that fart.'

See you in hell,
Shakes.