I had been reading my two boys a story on the bed and let a cheeky one go mid story. This had been becoming increasingly potent so what had been a jovial past time between father and sons had now gone a step further, I was for the first time reluctant to claim responsibility and bask in the glory of said stenchfest.
I jokingly replied to Jesse “maybe it was Jett”. Jett looked at me and smiled backing it up with a little chuckle… I took it as a signal he was willing to take the fall for the old man, claim responsibility for what was all out chemical warfare. I felt bad that Jett had jumped on the grenade, I felt like maybe I had pushed him towards it. I picked Jett up and we left Jesse’s room still chuckling but both glad to be vacating the room for fresher air streams. I put Jett into his bed and kissed him good night telling him how much I loved him. Maybe our bond had been strengthened that night, strengthened in a way that only taking responsibility for someone else’s fart can do.
I walked back down the stairs and into Jesse’s room, damn it was like being slapped around the face by a giant poo. The short amount of time taken to put Jett to bed had only served to realign my senses back to normality just in time for the second assault on re-entry.
I sat next to Jesse, he didn’t look very happy.
“Jesse, it wasn’t Jett who did that fart, it was Daddy” I said. It felt good to come clean.
“Are you OK?” I asked as Jesse still seemed upset.
“I don’t want to sleep in the stinky bed Daddy” Jesse said bordering on tears.
Farts had once been a point of hilarity between us but it seemed things were getting out of control.
“Oh Jesse, it’s OK” I said comforting him. “It’ll be gone in a few minutes. Don’t forget you’ve done lots of farts on Daddy’s bed.”
I changed the subject and managed to divert attention long enough to complete the night time routine and slowly exit the room clouded in guilt and the reminisce of the crime.
I was reminded of only a day earlier when I had been in the bathroom and confident of my own seclusion bombed a mighty fart that rattled the glass. Turtle (my cat) came strolling into the bathroom blissfully unaware, I saw him freeze and his little tail dropped to the ground. He looked up at me as if to say ” Fuck bro.” And then turned immediately around and walked out. I had disgusted an animal that licks his own arse.
Children and pets had once been great allies to the proud farter, always a willing audience. Pet’s unfazed and children captivated. It seemed now both were lost.
I felt it was time to seek help. I was sure Google could save me, save us.
“Holy shit I can’t handle the smell of my farts anymore. Any suggestions for death farts?I’ve been taking protein for about 7 months now and at first the farts weren’t that bad. Now I can barely stay in the same room after I fart. I fart and the room smells like stale ass for the next 30 minutes. For the time being my wife thinks the dogs have been having the farts but I don’t know how much longer I can keep the charade going.”
…it seemed I wasn’t alone, maybe there was a support group… I continued the search…
“I’ve noticed the same thing, I can make flies gag. I find it gives me privacy at work. Also it gets my children back for all the stench they’ve unleashed on me. Plus, I have a coworker with notoriously bad breath. I consider it my counter offensive.”
It seemed a real problem was out there and one that was rarely discussed. I searched again determined to find answers.
…and then almost as soon as my search had begun it was over, I had found the answer I was seeking, thank you google.
“This is natural. It’s weakness leaving the body. Bask in the glory.”