Nuclear Gas Warning...

My ass should have one of those radioactive tattoos on it...you know the ones they slap on the sides of those containers full of nuclear mutagens that cause exactly 1.234 billion types of cancer. You know the ones I'm talking about the kind that the government just loves to bury on native lands...especially if they can bury them in native sacred sites...well...my asshole should be sealed up in one of those containers and hauled off to the nearest reservation...because I've been releasing some fumes for the last forty-eight hours that are starting to eat out the backside of my pants.

Now...having some potent gas is a matter of pride in my family. Letting a good one rip that can clear a room is as good as getting an Oscar as far as the men folk in my family are concerned. After folks stop gagging...generally there is a round of back slapping and applause...while the women begin sharpening knives for the counterattack.  But the last couple of days have been even a bit much for me. It's one thing when your relatives clap for a fart well done...it's another thing when your asshole sounds like its clapping when its letting one rip.

Yesterday, I was at the movie theater, and one slipped out in the lobby. The guy in front of me said to his wife..."I just love the sound of popcorn popping." I thought to myself...yeah...popcorn popping...that's what that sound was...then I quickly moved away before the aroma of "butter topping" could reach the innocent couple. I did have the rare joy of sitting in Tristan and Isolde yesterday with an empty row in front of me...only two people at the other end of my row...and one woman in the row behind me. So, I merrily let them rip...one after another in rapid succession...throughout the whole movie. I'm sure the woman behind me almost passed out from the general lack of oxygen due to the icrease of methane...but it served her right...she sounded like she was eating an entire bag of popcorn seeds...plus...she had the nerve to mix them in with chocolate covered almonds...I was silently hoping that my gas would kill her.

I'm not sure where this occassional unstoppable effluvium arises. I've been regular in my movements. I'm eating tons of bran. I haven't eaten anything out of the ordinary lately. And I haven't flown in a couple of weeks (my poor friends...the pressurization in airplanes has the unfortunate effecet of pressurizing the gas in my intestines...so the loved ones I visit get a little bonus for the first couple of days after I touch down...until my intestines touch down as well). Perhaps I should do as the miners once did to test for mine toxicity...they would carry a canary into the mine...and if it died...they knew that there were dangerous gases about...I could start each day by shoving a canary in my butt...and if it dies...I know that it's going to be a tough day for everyone else in the office. But that would just ruin the suprise ;-).

Well...I have a meeting starting in seventeen minutes. And I can feel another anal explosion about to take place. I could shut my office door to spare my co-workers, but my eyes are already tearing up...and I don't want to risk passing out from my own toxic emissions. So in order to keep myself safe...I will wander about...spreading the message of goodwill and joy to all those with a nose to smell it.