So I was trying to think of something to write about the economy when I came across this article . I immediately archived my economy draft because this story is much, much more interesting.
A Florida teenager was recently suspended from riding the school bus because he farted to make his bus-mates laugh, and his fart, according to the bus driver, “creat[ed] a stench so bad that it was difficult to breathe.”
The article goes on to say that farting is not explicitly listed as inappropriate behavior, but that “disturbances” on the bus are suspension-worthy offenses. I can’t even imagine what that kid had to eat to achieve that level of fart-win.
This story made me think of an incident I witnessed in my High School. Big surprise, I know.
We used to relentlessly terrorize our chemistry teacher, Mr. Oliver. Terrorizing Mr. Oliver wasn’t a past-time–it was a competitive sport. Mr. Oliver was an older gentleman, and he was a bit of an odd duck. He would get insanely upset if a student called him “dude,” which, of course, prompted us to call him “dude” whenever the opportunity arose. On one occasion, one of my friends wrote “dude” in huge, capital letters on the chalk board, and then pulled down a map so the word was obscured. Mr. Oliver came in, asked why the map was pulled down, and then rolled it up revealing the gigantic “dude” on the board. It was like a curtain at a theater rising to reveal a magnificent set design. He just stared at it, unbelieving, for what seemed like forever.
One day another friend of mine, Paul, asked us if we dared him to go up and fart directly on Mr. Oliver. Of course we said yes, and Paul walked up to Mr. Oliver’s desk with a worksheet to “ask” him a question. Paul kept sneaking glances up at us as he presumably cropdusted the clueless Mr. Oliver’s workspace.
When Paul got back to our desk, it was high-fives and congratulations all around. Another guy in the class, Roy–who was in fact not my friend but a clingy dickhead who merely sat next to us to absorb and bask in our awesomeness–said he wanted to give it a go. Even though we thought he was a clingy dickhead, we encouraged Roy to spray Mr. Oliver as best he could.
Roy walked up to Mr. Oliver, who was still sitting at his desk, and without pretense, without even pretending to be up there for any legitimate reason, Roy positioned his ass mere inches from Mr. Oliver’s shoulder, looked over at us, clinched his face up in a grunt, balled his hands into fists as he squeezed, and proceeded to rip the loudest, nastiest fart I had ever heard. You could almost see Mr. Oliver’s hair waving in the breeze.
It was truly a beautiful thing to behold.
Mr. Oliver exploded in fury and drug Roy out of the room. And despite the fact that we thought Roy was a complete dimwit, that day, as he blew Mr. Oliver the most bodacious butt-kiss I had ever heard, Roy became our hero.