I met this really cool girl, Jill, many years ago. I asked her out, and told her I’d pick her up at eight on Friday night. I knew her parents would be home, and I wanted to make good impression on them, so I got a haircut, shaved off my hippie beard, and put on the only suit I owned. I arrived at Jill’s house promptly at eight, flowers in hand.
Her father answered the door. “Hello, Mr. Anderson, it is my sincere pleasure to meet you, sir”, I said. He eyed me suspiciously, but let me in.
I was so nervous! Mr. Anderson sat me down in his living room and we had a polite conversation. I was trying my best to impress.
And then I felt it – The mother of all farts was imminent. And I knew it was going to be a bad one. I wasn’t really sure what to do, then it struck me. The family dog was sitting on the floor right next to me. Maybe my fart would be blamed on poochie.
I let out the tiniest little fart. Mr. Anderson gave his dog a little stern look. It worked! I let out a bit more of the fart. Mr. Anderson looked at the dog and said “Rover!” Great! I let out even more of the fart. Mr. Anderson yelled “ROVER!” This was fantastic! I decided to let loose with a nasty, wet, nuclear force fart all in one go. Ppppppfffftttt!
“ROVER!” shouted Mr. Anderson. “Move before the guy shits on you!”
Although I have personally cut a few of legend, in my favorite fart story, I wasn’t the farter.
A couple of years ago, my SIL and I decided to take a chick trip for a couple of days. Picture this: two fat middle aged women and a little dog in the single cab of a compact pickup truck in July in the mid-South.
As we are apt to do on a road trip, we stopped for various snacks at roadside stands and gas stations along the way. We would pick up sodas and nabs, jerky, trail mix or our favorite, peanuts in the shell. Of course D-Dog did the cute dog act and usually begged some of whatever we were eating. About every fifth peanut shelled, he got one.
We all know what legumes do to the human digestive tract. Do y’all know what they do to a four pound chihuahua’s system? It ain’t pretty!
Soon there was a pained look on his face and his little nose went to the top of the window glass. Within seconds we had both windows completely down (and in July in the mid-South, giving up the benefits of A/C in one’s auto is serious).
We rode for the next couple of hours with the windows down as a matter of survival. I’m amazed that he didn’t become lighter than air and float away. No more peanuts for D-dog!
About a month ago, I eased one out as I set a case of beer down on the checkout counter of my local grocery store. I thought I was in the clear based on the amount of time that had passed without any indication that anything was wrong. But a full 30 seconds after, the guy swiping his card 20 feet away looked up with a disgusted look on his face.
“That was wrong,” he said. “That was wrong, wrong, wrong, and I’ll say it again, that was wrong.” I tried to look innocent, but it was just me and him in the checkout aisle. And my friend, who was hacking and coughing with tears running down his face over in the corner. And the cashier with a stoic look on her face.
“Next time you do that, go somewhere like the water aisle, where nobody ever goes,” the guy continued, grabbing his bags. “I was looking forward to having eggs for breakfast, but not anymore!”
My friend and I had a good laugh when he regained consciousness.
My nine-year-old son is capable of extraordinarily stinky farts. He laughed out loud once when I asked, “How can someone so cute make such ugly smells?”
I still remember a joke from Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses. A wealthy aristocrat - call him Walid, although I don’t remember his name for sure - accidentally rips a fart while bowing deeply to the emir. The emir’s court erupts in laughter. Walid flees the city in shame, changes his name, shaves his beard, wanders the globe and returns to the city a decade later, when he’s sure the incident will long ago have been forgotten. He stops in a shop, still incognito, and strikes up a conversation with the shopkeeper. He asks the shopkeeper about a friend, and the shopkeeper says, “Oh, he moved away about two years ago. Yes, that’s right - it would’ve been eight years after Walid farted in front of the emir.”
When I was 15 I was traveling with my parents and we had a stopover in Charleston,SC. I’m a nervous flyer and my bowels were in knots. I was overcome by gas pain and burned a few liters of gas deep into my seat. Slowly it seeped out into the already stale airplane air. My Dad looked at me horrified. So, I turned on the overhead fresh air nozzle. This blew the stench to the seats behind me. I heard a young boy with a southern accent exclaim, “Pew. It smells in this airplane, daddy!”. I nearly exploded from trying to contain my laughter.
Oh, Cripes!
I was just starting to date a girl at the time. I picked her up at her place and together, in full dress code compliance, we leave to attend the Nutcracker.
Now, I knew full well that I was (and am) lactose intolerant. That didn’t stop me from gorging on dairy products that morning and afternoon.
I don’t know what I was thinking…
As some of you know the Nutcracker lasts like 30 hours with an intermission somewhere in the middle.
Our seats were about dead center of the auditorium and in the center of the row, with probably 20 filled seats on either side of us.
No sooner did we get seated and comfy when I felt the burbling begin. Can’t even sneak one of these babies out, I know, I tried once and the guy next to me started to move in his seat a little nervously.
Oh well, have to keep them in I guess. What’s the worse that can happen? Shit myself?
Ok, screw that…turns out you can only hold in like three or four farts and then they have to go somewhere. With all the suits around and this new gal I was trying to impress there was no way I could get away with letting the compound accumulation of a half dozen flatulent dairy bombs out into the fair conditioned air and then sucked back in through the nostrils of this pretentious crowd…or was there? Not a chance, have to make a break for it.
Just as I was deciding whether or not to run across the tops of the seats or swing from the chandeliers to escape, the lights came on. I was literally like 10 seconds away from promising my first born son to the Fire Alarm god.
Anyway, I knew it was an intermission, but my date did not. She was under the impression that the play was over. “That was kinda short.”, she said. I thought, “Not when you feel like you’re going to explode for the last 45 minutes.”
Time to make a break for it before she realised that there was another half to this thing. “Ok, honey, why don’t you wait down the street at that nice little tavern and get us a couple drinks while I get the car and meet you there?” It worked. I got her out of there and I was able to walk alone to the car.
Laying complete waste to everything in my path alone the way.
McDonald’s. I was a cashier during the breakfast rush, stationed right next to the hashbrowns so that all my co-workers had to pass directly through the path of whatever was clawing its way out of my weary behind. One girl halted and let out a howl: “Auuughhwwwha! Smell like dem AIGS done gone bad!”
Just this morning. I was, in fact, wondering if I should post it for a laugh - I’ll take this thread as a sign from Og. . .
When Celtling was first learning to swim I used to stick my head down and blow bubbles in the bathtub for her. This morning out of the blue she asked me to do it again, which I did.
Then I said “your turn, now YOU blow some bubbles” . . . which *SHE *did. . .
We both laughed sooo hard, I had to hold her head to keep her from going under 'cause she was rolling!
No fart story, I just want to thank the OP for starting this thread. It’s been a difficult few days, and I’ve been checking this thread for a good laugh(s). I’ve literally been getting tears in my eyes.
One day I was summoned to testify in a case at the county courthouse. Now, for those with little experience in the legal system, being a witness is the absolutely most boring aspect of the system. Of course, I was required to be there at 8 in the morning, but with jury selection and the testimony of other witnesses I would not be called into the courtroom until well in the evening. So I spent about 12 hours in the hallway outside the courtroom, afraid to wander too far lest I be called in.
Which meant that I had few options for sustenance. I hadn’t eaten in my scramble out the door, so my only option was the small “cafe” on the first floor which mainly sold fried foods. Some tater tots and a half dozen cups of coffee later, I felt the pressure of an imminent bm.
I took the elevator downstairs to the restroom. As I was alone in said elevator, I figured I could relieve a little pressure. I emitted a long, loud, rumbling fart, smirking to myself that the next person to step in the elevator would have an unpleasant little surprise.
5 minutes later, after I’d done my business, I stepped into the elevator for the return trip only to find that no one had taken the elevator in the meantime and that the doors had sealed in the stench.
I had to hold my breath all the way to the fifth floor.
About 25 years ago I lived in Green River, WY. On a whim I decided to go to the South Pass area for a couple of days and pan for gold. Piled the dog, tent, pans, etc into the truck and took off
Not a soul knew where I was or how long I would be there.
Got there, set up camp and went to panning. Got a few flakes and after a couple of hours gave it up.
For dinner I had chili, cornbread, and beer, lots and losts of all three.
Went to bed about ten or so and slept until around one in the morning. I woke up in horrible pain. Sweat was pouring off me, I was doubled over holding my stomach.
Food poisoning I told myself.
Getting out of the tent was an ordeal. I had real trouble walking and was short of breath and bad stomach cramps. I was also a long way from any help. The nearest residence I knew of was the better part of an hour away.
I was scared.
Got the dog in the truck with the plan of driving to route 29 and just parking in the middle of the road with the flashers on. I wasn’t sure that I could make the highway, but it was the best I could do. Hopefully someone would be by in a few hours and stop and pick me up. That part of Wyoming isn’t troubled by a lot of late night drivers.
As I started the truck the farts began. And went on and on. Farts of world class odor. The dog wouldn’t even come around me. But with everyone I felt better and better. I did have to get my sleeping bag out of the tent because there was no way I could have survived in an inclosed space.
Pushing my two and a half year old kid in his stroller, I let one go and unfortunately it was a loud raspberry type. I strode out to get away from the noise but the kid whipped round and said in a very loud voice “WHO DID THAT???”
In 2005, I had a laparoscopic gastric bypass. Part of the procedure is that after poking you with about 6 holes for various instruments and drains, the doctor inflates the surgical area (my abdomen) with sterile nitrogen so he has room to work.
My doctor used a LOT of gas. I looked like I gained about 20 lbs the day after surgery.
Because this was intestinal surgery, I had nothing to move and therefore had not pinched a loaf since the day before the knife. I somehow managed to produce a little poot before a nurse in the hospital, demonstrating that peristalsis was resuming, which allowed me to go home.
When I got home from the hospital, I had to sleep in a recliner because between the pain and irritation to my innards and the presence of the gas, I couldn’t lay flat on my back.
On my second night home, around 3 AM, I felt that familiar pressure and let it fly. Man, did that ever feel good. Almost immediately, another. And another, and still more. I serial farted for 20 minutes straight, a record for me.
Four teenagers in a car. Brian and Ed in the front. Dale and I in the back. Just then, Dale puts both feet on the back of the front seat, and lets go a high pitched ass whistle:
Teeeee[sub]ooooooooooo[/sub]WEEET!
Then, four guys doubling over in laughter.
It wasn’t the smell; it was the tone. It was like his jeans were too tight thereby squeezing his asscheeks so that he could only squeak out the high notes.
To this day, that upper register rip is the funniest sounding fart I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear.
I was at a party chatting a girl up when I had the desire to fart.
I was just debating whether or not to take a short absence of leave to get rid of it without grossing out the girl when a bloke who is notorious for either…
(A)spoiling other peoples chances of getting off with a woman or
(B) Trying to jump in on other peoples work in that area and perform a hijack…
came over to try the “Two minute"charm offensive technique”.
(You walk over to a girl talking to someone else,dazzle them with your charm,walk off and repeat at intervals during the evening and then make your play at leaving time)
Well while he was there I silently unloaded a portion of wind and the girl being a perfect lady pretended not to notice apart from an involuntary nostril flare.
I threw a slightly suspicious glance in his direction but made sure not to overact.
Each time he walked over to us I quietly let go a bit more gas but behaved myself when he wasn’t in the vicinity, until finally the target of my affections having had enough turned to him and said (In a most unlady like way I thought)
Why dont you just FUCK OFF !
Every time you come over you fart!
He looked hurt and bewildered and tried to stammer out a defence, but acting the role of the reasonable man I said "Steve "(I’ll call him Steve though really his name was Nick),“Steve come on mate,enoughs enough its been putting me off my beer”
Well the upshot of the story was I got off with her and we had a bit of a fling but we didn’t end up married and have twelve kids or anything but I still savour the memory to this day of fucking the smug bastard off.
The wife and I are standing in line at a grocery store waiting to pay for our stuff. In line in front of us is an older lady, behind us in line is a really tall guy. Tall guy is talking to older woman and we figure that she is his mother (he called her Mom). While unloding the cart I bent over to get something from the bottom, I rip a fairly quiet fart. Almost immediately, the odor hits and it is bad. I tapped my wife on the shoulder and tell her that I smell fresh bread and it smells good. She sniffs and tells me she can’t smell anything. I stand there bummed because my joke did not work. Our stuff was rang up, we paid and began to head for the exit. As we passed the older woman, she goes over and whacks the tall guy on the arm and chastises him for being rude, she thought she raised him better than that. He compains that he didn’t do anything. She looked up and tell him “I know the smell of your farts and that was you”. My wife looked at me and asked if it was me. I couldn’t say anything at the time, I was trying to keep from laughing. By the time I got outside tears were rolling down my face. My wife said I embarrassed her. Of course this made me laugh even more.
A couple with a little kid walk into the store. The kid is saying to mommy, “Daddy farted.” She ignores him so the kid says it again, louder. This repeats until the kid is fairly shouting, “DADDY FARTED!” At which point, mom practically yells, “AND?” Which shuts the kid up. If she had acknowledged it sooner, it probably wouldn’t have been an issue.
I was sweeping the dairy aisle and the dairy stocker is laughing. He tells me that as he was on his knees stoking product, a little old lady came by. Right as she passed him, she let one go pretty loudly. He didn’t take his eyes off his work until she was a ways down the aisle. But when he did she was looking back at him and she said, “Whew, that was a stinker.”
I told this in a different thread once, but I think it bears repeating.
I’m a fairly gassy guy. I can’t help it and I don’t know what the cause is (other than a bunch of crap in my intestines). When Mrs. Intergalactic Gladiator and I were dating, I used to subject her a lot to my unfortunate power of windage. Usually the night after we went out together, get a few cheap (or not cheap!) beers in me and the next morning is filled with noxious joy.
One morning a few small, unfortunate instances of gas were released by my sphincter, Mrs. Intergalactic Gladiator To Be was fed up. In retaliation, she sat on my head and farted.
