Picket Fences

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

The Art of Farting

I leant the art of farting on thanks giving weekend, my cousin uploaded me with all the leftovers and I did not have a choice; choosing between a rotten two legged Turkey or mushy mashed potatoes, she insisted that I gobble the last bit that was on my plate and my stomach had this strange feeling of abandoning my spirit..
In the evening we decided to go for shopping, I kept up with my cousin’s naive whims and bought some frilly undies to go with my see through dress, along the way I got this sensation that I had to pass gas, I was in a packed antique store where some sophisticated laymen were shopping on a passing whim, I was actually surrounded by people of good upbringing, could not ask much to embarrass them but the gas in my tummy had this propelling effect on my abdomen.
Without much ado I panicked and moved away sensing the subtle attacks on white culture by my Desi fart, stealthily I lurked away from the crowd and there I go in controlled installments...trrrr...rrrah…it was gone, I looked around to make sure the expected impact was achieved in no time, and sped from the place ..While looking at the pots and panels which were intricately detailed and consciously attired I got this strange feeling of another bout...I looked around and saw a dignified old woman looking intently at the charming picture in her hand ..If I did fart she would murmur and leave the place, I wouldn’t do that to my enemy...
Sorry but I had to. ..So I just disengaged myself and trrrrr…r goes in another corner …this time no one was around...I heaved a sigh of relief...and turned to a corner as if the farted odor wasn’t mine...it was there left by some bum.
Grinning to myself...and …thrilled about my success I sheepishly pursued the other parts of the store avoiding the gentle manly and prim women…
As I picked up an urn to admire I was petrified about another …sensation in my body...weird yet bloated…I couldn’t think straight for a moment...before I could control my instincts ...there I go in controlled spasms…trrr…
The big decent man who was standing next to me is a blue shirt and pleated pant …was startled…his face twitched in an intense pain… his hands dropped the article he was holding…he stared at me in utter disbelief…
I for another moment …fled the scene like a convict hunted by the cops and swore to myself that I will never marry a man who wouldn't know the nuances of farting.…hey farting is part of a disease…its about indigestion, it’s about being lazy and eating lot of protein and not been able to drink enough fluid,…big deal that you can’t fart when you want to fart? What’s this? A British thing?


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