The Vanilla Fart Story

I lived in the dorms at UW for 3 years and ate dorm food.  Dorm food was full of starches back then and a diet high in starches gave me gas... so, for 3 years of my life, I had gas.  In fact, every night before bed time, my roommate and I would walk down our hallway, give a light knock on a neighbor's door, back up against it, fart, and say, "Good night."  We would always hear the laughter from inside the room of our neighbors as we did this nightly ritual.

Well anyways, it was a Saturday morning, and I was on my way home for the weekend to see my parents.  I was driving across the Narrows Bridge and the car filled with the smell of vanilla.  I had no idea where it came from but I did enjoy the fragrance.  I supposed I must have passed a bakery truck or something. Well, about 10 minutes later, I had a strong urge to fart.  I was all alone in the car and so I tilted to the left(one simply doesn't not bare down and fart directly into the seat cushion!), bared down and released a nice arid fart.  I was suddenly surprised as the car filled again with the smell of vanilla.  It was wonderful.  Then I realized, that that must have been me leaking 10 minutes earlier.  I could not believe it!  About 10 minutes later I had another urge.  So I tilted, bared down and farted and the car filled once again with the lovely aroma of vanilla.  I simply was amazing myself.  I needed a witness.  Then I remembered that mom was going to be home when I got there and a plan immediately came to mind.

The rest of the drive home I focused on restraining myself from farting.  When I got home, I ran in the house and said, "Mom!  You won't believe what happened on the way home.  You have to smell..."  It was at this point that I realized the flaw in my plan.  How could I ask my mom to smell my next fart?

So I quickly improvised.  I said, "You need to experience something."  My confidence rose as I rescued myself from my predicament.  My mom was in her recliner reading a book, so I walked over and sat on her lap.

I wanted to give her the full experience from the epicenter.  I was going to leave no doubt.  She was not happy with this maneuver of mine, however, and asked me to get off.  I simply ignored her and asked her how she was doing and if she missed me.

I was stalling but still brimming with confidence.

She was quickly growing more and more uncomfortable and impatient.

I sensed my window of opportunity was closing so I tried stretching a little from side to side trying to get things going so to speak.  This only added to my mothers discomfort and impatience and she said, "Get off me."

Once again I ignored her and tried small talk... then all of the sudden I felt a rumbling from within and with total confidence announced, "Here we go."   I bared down with full strength and let her have it.  It was a nice arid one and I expected to smell vanilla... to my disappointment and my mothers horror, it was NOT.

I leaped off her and she yelled at me and tried to hit me.  She couldn't believe what I had just done.  I told her that I had had 3 vanilla farts on the way home and wanted a witness.  I was totally confident that number 4 was going to be vanilla also.  It wasn't.  It was dead crab.  To her dying day she believed that my roommate offered me $20 to go home and fart on my mother.

The moral of the story is... be careful what you believe in.  Just because you believe in it doesn't mean it is going to happen or is true.  I believed my next fart was going to be vanilla.  I had so much faith in this belief that I sat on her and farted.  Our beliefs should impact our actions.  If we truly believe something... shouldn't it impact how we behave?  As a Christian, my beliefs in God and the Bible should impact how I live.  If they don't, then, do I really believe?

Day 111