I was on my way home after taking Walnut to see the veterinarian for her regular checkup. Unlike Pepper and Turnip–who both hate car rides and will try scratching my eyeballs out in order to avoid a commute–Walnut actually enjoys being in cars. She likes looking out the windows. and she will spend the entire ride staring at other moving cars and people. Because she doesn’t run around while I’m driving, I usually take her out of her carrier and let her sit in the backseat.
As I was driving from the vet’s office, I felt a fart coming on. Let’s be clear: if this had happened while I was in someone else’s car, I would keep the gas to myself and wait until I got far, far away before releasing it into the atmosphere. But since I was in my own car, I didn’t have to wait for a more appropriate time to fart…because when you’re in your own car, any time is an appropriate time.
So I let my butt exhale.
I didn’t think much of it afterwards; I simply assumed the fart would just escape out of the car, as all the other farts before it had done in the past. Those must have been magical farts because even when my windows were up and the AC was set to air recirculation, they still managed to get out before any odor reached my nose.
But the fart that came out on that particular day was different. It lingered in the air longer than usual, and smelled fouler than I’d expected. I realized then that I was not dealing with a typical fart.
Farts can be divided into 3 categories: Typical, Warning, and Ass Abomination.
As you can see from my super scientific-looking diagram, the fart categories coincide with certain types of dump. A Typical Fart is one that does not precede a dump, i.e., the gas isn’t being expelled to make room for a forming turd. As such, these farts don’t smell too bad, and you can actually get away with letting one of these out without anyone ever noticing.
A Warning Fart lets you know that you have a doodoo trip coming up in the near future. Its level of potency depends on what type of dump you’re going to have. A normal dump’s Warning Fart is the least smelly, while an Ass Abomination Fart smells like you just crapped your pants–and chances are you probably did, hence the hazardous waste icon.
So the closer your turd type is to being an explosive dump, the stankier your Warning Fart becomes. In my case, my fart seemed to be indicating that peanut butter poop was on the way.
“I thought girls don’t take dumps.” Sorry, but the only girls that don’t are the inflatable ones.
And now the obvious question: Why would I expel a fart that was warning me of peanut butter poop when I was sitting in a car with my windows up and the air recirculation on?
Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how potent my gas was going to be because I had no idea there was anything in my bowels until I smelled the evidence. I didn’t have any grumblings or gurglings, pangs of stomach pain, or any of the other symptoms normally associated with a doot. I’m not sure why my bowels decided to forgo giving me the heads-up, but I think it may be attributed to the fact that I was sitting down at the time–like how you sometimes don’t realize you’ve overeaten until you stand up. Maybe poop works the same way.
Whatever it was that kept the turd alerts at bay, I ended up thinking I was releasing a Typical Fart when what actually escaped was a fetid Warning Fart that slowly permeated throughout the car.
Before long, my car was filled with an odor that I can only describe as being the stuff nightmares are made of.
I’m pretty sure this was how Freddy Krueger really lost his face…
Having turned my car into a traveling gas chamber, and there being no signs of the fart dissipating any time soon, it would have been a good time for me to open up a window or turn off the air recirculation setting…or anything else that would’ve gotten fresh air into the car.
But I just sat there–in fact, I actually made the conscious decision not resort to such measures under any circumstances. As much as I hated being enveloped in a toxic heat mist of my own making, if I cracked open a window I’d be admitting defeat. I’d become “Sylvia, the girl who got her ass kicked by her own ass gas–i.e., the most uncool person on Earth.”
No! No! No! I could not let that happen. Bad enough my awesomeness only exists in my own mind, but if I kowtowed to my fart even I wouldn’t be able to look at myself as anything other than a pathetic loser!
I refused to give in, and tried to play the car fart down.
Walnut, however, was not following my lead. She instead became agitated and started jumping all around the car. Her behavior probably would have been distracting, except I too busy being distracted by my internal monologue: Was Walnut’s sudden behavior change the result of my fart? Because that would be really emba–! Wait, we’re talking about Walnut, right? She’s the one who follows me into the bathroom and sits on my lap even when I’ve got A-bomb diarrhea. If she can withstand those odors, then she can’t possibly be getting mad about a trapped car fart now. Oh, I know! She’s upset about going to the vet!
It all made sense: Walnut was traumatized by her checkup experience, yet kept her feelings to herself because she was afraid I’d think less of her. But when I farted, she realized she could be as comfortable around me as I was around her. Her crazy act wasn’t to get back at me for damaging her lungs! It was her way of expressing her true feelings!
Look how sincere I was! How concerned I was for her well-being! Walnut was in dire need of emotional support, and I wanted to reassure her that my car was her safe haven!
And how did she repay me for my charitable efforts? She started wailing like an ungrateful banshee!
I wasn’t going to put up with that! I just spent $ 90 on ensuring Walnut’s health, and a couple of hours chauffeuring her to and from the vet. She was in no position to be complaining about a fart that just happened to be really stinky, and was now making my eyes burn.
I don’t know if she was going through a rebellious phase or what, but she started biting my arms!
Her little knife teeth hurt like a b*tch, but I wasn’t going to give in. It wasn’t until she jumped off my lap and got near the brake pedal that I decided to raise my white flag.
I know! I know! I lost the last shred of dignity that still remained! I wanted to be strong, but then I started picturing how things could end up playing out if I continued to refuse Walnut’s demands for fresh air. Imagine how embarrassing it would have been if I crashed. The impact would ignite my fart and burn me into a disgusting crisp. And what if I died? You know what happens to your bowels when you die! They release their contents! That means mine would be oozing peanut butter poop! I wouldn’t just be “Sylvia, the girl who got her ass kicked by her own ass gas;” I’d now be known as “Sylvia, the girl who got her ass charred by her own ass gas, and then bled peanut butter poop all over the freeway.”
I’m pretty sure it works.
You’ll have to give your insurance to the truck driver in front and get it from the one who hit you. At least you weren’t hurt and the police report will show you were not at fault which means no points, and your insurance should cover the damage. I find it easier to go through your own insurance and let them fight to get repaid from the other driver’s insurance.
” move. 
absolutangel64 
