Sometimes I write random sentences in my head. Many are orphan thoughts that don’t fit into a larger piece of work:
“I fart so much in the middle of the night, the local bubble factory asked me to work the night shift.”
The process helps me to deflate and fall back to sleep. They are purely hypothetical; I’m a piece of work.
My mother-in-law is to blame once again. She raised four boys, making my husband both the oldest and the ring leader. Even as grown men, when they gather, toilet humor is a favorite topic.
When they are away from one another, the topic still manages to rear it’s smelly head. I can hear flatulence during phone conversations, see references in texts and most recently, hear broadcast with their newest accomplish, Alexa.
“Alexa, make farting noises.”
Like my brother-in-law’s holiday competitions, they come in all sounds, duration and levels of disgust. Alexa wants to be in their group so badly, she participates every single time. I didn’t realize she could stoop to this level.
The boys to men tell one another about their technological farts with tears in their eyes. I had no idea how uneducated Alexa was until now. And yes, it’s my mother-in-law’s fault. She wrapped the boys in swaddling clothes and Alexa in Christmas paper.
Merry Christmas to me – my husband almost replaced the roll!