Floaters
More than twenty years ago I was riding in the backseat of a car with a buddy of mine. His dad was driving and his mom was in the passenger seat.
My buddy and I were probably about twenty-two.
A smell hit the air. Quite possibly nothing that had even the slightest hint of methane in it.
“Who farted?” My buddy asked. “Mom! was that you?”.
“It couldn’t have been me,” she might have said or I could be paraphrasing — it was a long time ago, “I don’t have gas. My turds floated this morning.”
What. Was she being for real? Or just trying to throw us off the scent. (Get it! Throw us off the scent! I kill me sometimes.).
“What!” my buddy asked..
“If your turds float, you’re not going to have gas,” his mother said.
* * *
She might have a point.
It’s certainly something to think about.
