Listen Softly To The Weeping Heart, Crushed By The Smell Of A Girl’s Fart

I don’t care how old I get, farting will still be funny. If ever someone wanted to argue that God has a sense of humor, then farting would be the universal joke. I am amazed at how I still can’t help but laugh over one.

Guy’s use farts as a way of messing with each other, defining what they ate that day, or revenge. Nothing beats dropping a hot bit of mustard gas in someone’s car, and watching them climb in after that devil’s aerosol has had time to cook in the day’s heat. That is a dish best served warm!

However, there is a darkside to farts. It is a nasty side that most men, mostly the unmarried, try to deny exist’s. It is the back alley world of farting, and it is filled with lies and deception. Yes, I am talking about Girl Farts!

Most guy’s will never run into an outright example of this until they develop a serious relationship with one of the “finer” sex. You have probably run into one a couple times before this, but they can be hidden as dog farts, farts that were in the aisle before she got there, or farts that you let slip and don’t remember. That last one is a popular excuse, and most guy’s will fall for it because it isn’t that far fetched.

One of the myth’s surrounding a girl fart is that it smells like rose’s, and I am sad to say that myth is a lie. Trash smell’s like trash, and a fart smell’s like a fart. The only problem isn’t the smell, but that something so pretty could create that evil. Guy’s are pretty nasty to begin with, but girls are mostly nice to look at and relatively clean. This apperance of good loosens the guard and lowers the defense.

I am all for the equality of the sex’s, but I still find my soul cringing at a fart squeaking from the cheek’s of a woman. My fart’s can smell like I shoved a corpse up my ass, but let that come from a woman and I want to vomit. I have actually been in a store and had a woman fart in the aisle I was in. I know it was her based off the fact that it wasn’t me and I heard it announce it’s birth. She looked at me, and I looked at her. The awkward situation became more so when I was greeted with a smell of cabbage and week-old dead raccoon. She whispered something about Mexican food; but my soul was trying to leave my body, so I didn’t really hear her.

All I want is to go back to the day’s where the Girl Fart was something whispered about on the playground. Day’s where sugar and spice were true, and that only nasty Bradley would fart. Those were the good ol’ days. Those were the day’s that I loved.