I like antiques. Put me in a store or warehouse full of old stuff and I’ll happily browse for hours on end. I’d seen an intriguing place recently and decided to stop in during my lunch hour today and it did not disappoint. It was chock full of primitive furniture and many of the quirky, unusual items like those I’ve been collecting for years, ever since Grandmom had her shop.
One item in particular though screamed at me to purchase it’s bad self. It was an old fireplace bellows, a pretty big one and in very reasonable shape for what appeared to be it’s advanced age. I figured we could take it to the cabin with it’s wood burning fireplace and end those years of high altitude hyperventilation we’d endured trying to get it lit each morning. Proud of my purchase, I brought the bellows back into the office with me to show off before taking it home. I don’t know if I mentioned it but the antique store was visited just after quenching my noon hunger at our local Whataburger. Mmmm… double with cheese, onion rings and a chocolate shake. That’s good eatings.
As I was sitting here at my desk, I noticed that my meal had apparently been digesting as I shopped. I could tell this because I really had to fart. Not wanting to have to walk all the wall down the hall to the poopitorium or for my office to be all stinky, I pondered my dilemma. Then I saw the bellows.
They work on a pretty simple theory actually. They suck wind in so they can blow wind out. I decided to see if they could suck my wind. I scootched back a bit from my desk and positioned them in my lap with the handles together. Then, as I gently pulled the handles apart, I began to fart. Woowie, it was huge but amazingly… no stink. The bellows sucked it all up. I had to fart again. Again the bellows ingested the hole emission with room to spare. Only one person walked in during this procedure but, understandably, they didn’t stay long. Ten minutes later it had consumed a third blast with nary a creak. I then sat the loaded vessel that contained my three farts on the desk, careful to put it on it’s side so that the handles wouldn’t compress.
You might remember Dave. He works across the hall from me and I tried to fart on his head a couple of months ago thinking he wouldn’t mind. He mentioned this morning that he had a dental appointment today and as he strolled into my office he looked in a bit of pain and pretty warm as well since his car’s AC is crap. As he wiped a bead of sweat off his brow I saw him eye my bellows, no doubt thinking they could grant him a nice, cooling breath of fresh air. I certainly had time to warn him. But I didn’t.
Dave put the bellows loaded with my three farts right up to his face and pushed the handles inward with a hard squeeze. The funky air that had until late been in my butt blew in his face so hard I saw his hair rustle. I’d never had a fart part someone’s hair before. An awful expression came over his face and he screamed “Bwoody hell, dat’s da stink of Deaf!” with the unparalyzed half of his mouth. Apparently the dentist had really worked him over and now he’s hit himself hard in the face with a rectal trifecta of someone else’s fresh anal blastings. He paused at my door, turned and gave me a very strange and twitching look and went back to his office so he could sit down.
I heard Dave get back up about fifteen minutes ago and slowly move from office to office telling anyone that would listen with a slurring drawl that "I just caught free farts wif my face.” Bob immediately began to cackle unmercifully. I didn’t hear any response from Janie and when I walked by later she was still just staring straight ahead. Nancy appeared to have her hands over her ears and was humming something, anything to make his voice go away.
I’m back in my office now. I’d meant to take these bellows home with me tonite but I’ve thought better of it and decided that no, it needs to stay here with me for awhile. It’s usefulness reborn, nay reinvented, who am I to put them back on some dusty shelf.
Pariah… pariah
and Dave calls my wind a pariah.
