Message Units

OK, so, yah – Sis! Sorry about your message units or whatever it was there. Cable length. Data base. Pixels. I was telling you about that fart thing, right? Before your phone died? Of course you won’t get this for 2 days anyway if and that’s a big if I mail it today. Or maybe you’ll get off your ass and trot down to the phone store and buy some time. Ha ha. Anyway, here is what happened.

Cheryl and me are not getting along all that well (shut up) since she moved in here with her little Latin love child, the day after Mr. Big Deal Dope Dealer kicked her out and the day the gov locked everything down. So now she can’t go anywhere. Of course I can still go to the shop, cause we’re extensile. Ha ha. I know it’s ‘essential’. I didn’t have to go to 6 years of college to know a little something. So why did I let her in? It wasn’t just for sex, but TBH that did have something to do with it. Not that it has done me much good. She usually goes in to the kid’s room and passes out with him.

But the other night we were watching YOUTUBE and this thing comes on about farts being able to ‘pass’ the Wuhan germ. Farts. Man, it was roll on the floor hold your stomach start to actually literally physically choke funny. That good. We tried to wheeze things out to each other: ‘Light a match and save a Senior Citizen!’ (Why that was funny I don’t know.) ‘Lock down Taco Bell!’, ‘Silent but deadly! No, really!’ And my contribution, ‘No hummus for you!’ Like in the Seinfeld Soup Nazi episode.

Then, you guessed it.

All that laughing and rolling around loosened me up a bit and I let one go. Rrrrrr-ippp, blat blat blat blat. Like the walking farts but you know, these were the laughing farts.

It got real quiet. All the fun was gone from the room, and was replaced by something else.

“That is so fucking gross! What a peasant! What’s next? Gonna go shit in the driveway?”

Wow. She looked at me like she didn’t even know me. Fuckin A. You’d think she never heard me fart before. She should talk. How many times have I felt that little wind egg being laid on my thigh during the night when I spoon her? Do I wake her up and say anything like ‘you make me sick’? No. I just pray for it to stay under the covers. And when you hear little Pancho fart, you better vacate. He can fill up a diaper real good with some serious shit. So, I’m hardly the biggest problem here.

Anyway, that’s the fart story. I think it would have been funnier over the phone. Needed sound effects.

Wow. It’s 11:00 PM already. Guess who’s late for work? Yep.

Mason the Essential Essene from Emmet County M-m-m-meesh-again

Next Letter: FC

Author: hsderkin

H. Scott Derkin lives with his wife and a scruffy miniature poodle mix on the banks of a river in NW Michigan. By not taking into account his shortcomings, his wife has managed to stay with him for over half a century.

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