The Fart Whisperer

They call me the Fart Whisperer. It is my gift.

I can’t break a wild horse or teach a rowdy dog to behave but I can coax that fart out of you.

Like tuning an old TV with rabbit ears, I will adjust your legs to unkink your intestines. My magic fingers on your abdomen will have you breaking wind like a teenager doing sit-ups in gym class.

I don’t rely on medical devices or over-the-counter fart suppressants. My methods are all-natural. I am the midwife of flatulence.

Just because I work in a respected and professional manner does not mean the farts reciprocate. They scream at me as they rush by. They disgrace themselves as they exit the premises. They are prone to violent outbursts when they are ushered out the back door.

But I am ready for whatever fight they put up. I’ve been doing this for so long, I know and understand each fart’s personality. There is the “bloater.” The “popper.” The “grumpy old man who lives like a hermit in the woods.” I can’t even count the number of times I’ve had to introduce him back into society.

Not all farts are the same, however, and in my career I’ve had the good fortune to grapple with a few choice vapors that tested my every move and instinct. Like all worthy foes, I’ve given them a name and an epitaph, which I share below:

  • Muddy Trumpet and his Big Ass Band – After a long night of partying and po’ boys in New Orleans, this jazzy number came out like a full-on fart orchestra (farchestra, if you will). Leading the band, Muddy Trumpet played a solo on my sphincter like a some kind of proctologist Louie Armstrong. Also, there was a lot of scatting.
  • Turtlehead’s Monster – A fart is a fart until you crap your pants. Turtlehead’s Monster, as I’ve dubbed him, is the turd that doesn’t understand that simple rule. Like a periscope on a submarine, he pokes his head out, assesses the situation, and pulls back to live another day. However, in the process he has literally left all the calling cards of a creature from a bad horror movie. The stench. The trail of slime. The angry mob.
  • The Drum-Major’s Daughter – Sure, she looks so sweet and innocent, but this little ripper can peel the new pink paint off the walls in your nursery room. With the precision of a drum-roll, this fart will have you marching right into a baby-wipe battle.

Now, the only questions are when do I get my TV show and who will play the Fart Whisperer on the silver screen?

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