Booty Call
08.19.10
“Now then, chaps.”
“Matt!”
“Well, if it ain’t the Lord of the Winds!”
“Not seen you since you got together with that bird. Was beginning to think you were dead. Or, worse, under the thumb.”
“Give him a break lads, he’s probably just been spending the last few weeks in bed.”
Matt winked at us, tapped the side of his nose, cocked one hip towards us and let out a loud fart. The underage drinkers at the next table stifled giggles while the barmaid, far too fashionable for an establishment like the Pig and Whistle, wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Business as usual, chaps!” Matt brought his glass up for the customary salute, but the rest of us didn’t follow suit, instead looking at him in horror.
“What. Is. That?”
“It’s a glass, you pillock,” he said, punctuating each syllable with a new fart.
“You won’t get a pint of beer in that little thing.”
“You going soft on us?”
“Wine, man? Wine is for birds.”
“Oh come off it – you lot drink wine, too, I’ve seen you all do it.”
“Yes, but not at the pub. It is perfectly acceptable for a man to enjoy a full-bodied glass of red at a restaurant, or in his own home after the missus has presented him with a fine steak. Down the boozer for Liverpool v Arsenal however – it’s just not on.” Matt swore at us, farted, then sat down with a serious look on his face.
“Lads, I need your advice,” he said, in a quieter voice. We exchanged worried glances and leaned in towards him, banter forgotten.
“Well, you know how my relationships never seem to get past two weeks?” We nodded.
“Can’t say it’s ever bothered me, but when I met this bird… well, let’s say I’m punching well above my weight here, and not just looks-wise.” We nodded again.
“Cheers for the vote of confidence, guys. Anyway,” he said, turning to look at me, “I remembered something your missus told me, Dan. It was on that night out when I got turned down by that colleague of hers she was trying to set me up with. You know, the time when the jukebox refused to play Bohemian Rhapsody so I farted it instead? Your lass took me to one side and gave me a right old bollocking. Yeah, yeah, I know – I had to try really hard to keep a straight face at the time, but when I met Kitty I remembered what she said to me.”
“So what was it, man? Enough with the suspense already!” Matt took a swig from his glass, draining it, and put it down on the table in disgust.
“Sod this for a laugh – I’m getting a pint next.” We cheered, and he let one loose in appreciation. “So anyway, your lass told me that no woman would ever want to stay with me if I couldn’t even muster up enough romance to put a cork in it, at least for the first few months.” At this point we stopped even trying to keep the laughter in; his rear end admonished us with a small symphony, and he went on.
“So… well, I promised I wouldn’t let rip in front of her for a while. You know, until we’re more comfortable with each other.”
“So what’s the problem? Did you break your promise and she’s got the hump with you?”
“No, not at all. It’s all going really well, in fact. It’s just that I’ve been spending entire nights and weekends round at hers and all the holding it in is causing me quite a lot of pain. Last Friday I took her out for a few beers and a curry and I spent the next day practically doubled up – it’s why I thought I’d swap beer for wine, to see if that helped. Stop laughing, you bastards, and help me out here – you’re all living with your birds, how the hell do you cope?”
“Can’t you just visit the bog every so often and let rip there?”
“Mate, you know how much I fart. She’d think I was a right weirdo if I went to the toilet every five minutes. I’ll leave the room on the pretence of going to see what her cat is up to once in a while, or I’ll go out to the garden to make sure a rustling sound isn’t a fox getting into her rubbish bins, but I can only take that kind of thing so far. What else can I do?”
“Well, if you’re sure it’s not going to be a rancid one, how about letting it out really slowly?”
“Yeah man – feather the throttle.” We all nodded at this, and he raised his eyebrows, considering it.
“That might be do-able. Cheers chaps. Now someone explain to me why the bloody hell women are immune to the comedy value of breaking wind?”
“Amen, brother.”
“Tell you what though – the first sign of granny pants or stubble on her legs, and she won’t know what’s hit her.” He went to the bar to get his pint, leaving a wake of fartlets behind him. We all settled down to watch the game.
It wasn’t till his stag night, a couple of years later, when he told us how he knew for sure she was the one. She had been working away for a week and he had missed her. On her return he had grabbed her in a hug the force of which took her by surprise, and she released a little trapped wind of her own. Her face had gone beetroot red, and he had tried to keep a straight face so that she wouldn’t feel more embarrassed. When the tears had started streaming out of her eyes and he realised that she had been trying to hold the laughter in, he had put his hands on her shoulders and mouthed three little words at her. With the appropriate musical accompaniment, of course.
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Tags: Beer, Farts, Flash Fiction, fridayflash, Humour, Lads, Pub, Writing
This is shockingly sweet, but such a flatulent story! Very authentic dialogue – I wonder if it is based on fact!
As fart romances go, I’d say you’re topping the field, here.
This is where everyone realises that I am not a respectable IT professional in her thirties, but am in fact a fourteen year old boy…
I kept a cork in it for 10 years of married and she still left me all the same! A good amusing read and if you can’t fart in fiction where can you fart?
Sometimes you just need to toot your own horn.
I KNEW IT! You are a fourteen year old boy…
I’m so glad he found the perfect one for him. Well done, Master mazzz. 😉
“feather the throttle” – loved that.
Slice of life eh? So this is what folks in leeds get up to!
Very, very funny!
More room out than there is in I always say. This story was a gas! Somebody light a match. Funny stuff Mazz.
Bwahahaha! Reminds me of my husband. He used to cut loose in the grocery store and then say, as loud as he could, “MARY!” That’s what he called me. Such a funny story, Maria. At least it didn’t end with a sack-bomb. That’s forcing your significant others head under the covers after you fart.
A match made in heaven! I just hope there aren’t any matches around burning!
A funny and very authentic-feeling story. I’d say it stunk but that’d be going too far. 😉
Great stuff!
Reading much Jonathan Swift lately, Mazz? He’ll be surprised upon wedlock to find that Celia, Celia, Celia… well, you know.
Farts are funny. I don’t care what anyone says. Loved this one!
Oddly enough, I’ve had this conversation with the lads myself. great stuff.
Ahh Mazz. Indeed, it’s true love. Very *ahem* authentic story. You’ve really got some wind up you.
Oh Maria, I am cracking up! Their dialogue made me feel like I was watching a slap-stick comedy. Fartlets? That’s so…cute. 🙂 So very well told!
Maria Kelly’s comment reminded me of the time I was in a tiny store with my grandmother. She was a couple aisles away and I heard her rip a big one, (you know how you can tell who it is when it’s family). Then I heard her practically yell, “Well, did you hear me?!” Yes, I turned and ran the other direction. 🙂
Thanks for a great laugh this morning Maria!
“Feather the throttle?????”
HAR!!!!
This was a hilarious story! The antics of the boys at the pub are just spot on (as I imagine they’d be, me not being a boy like yerself)
And how true that bodily functions are repressed until the first signs of leg stubble!
Loves me a good fart story and Mazzz this was GOOD!
Hey Mazz, pull my finger!
Still wiping the tears from my eyes. This is priceless.
The other name we use for sack-bomb in Australia is “Dutch oven.”
And I agree with Eric, farts are funny!
Adam B @revhappiness
This was just so ENJOYABLE! Not only was the premise very funny, but I laughed so much at the banter. Somehow, I always find UK expressions as “sod this” and “you pillock” more amusing than the counterparts said here.
Bohemian Rhapsody, eh? Suppose his musical ability saves them some money because there’s no need to hire an organist for the walk down the aisle musical number.
Pig And Whistle is just a perfect name for the place!
Do you know, my husband made a movie of basically this situation for the Delray Beach Film Festival. Good strong voices here, and well paced. Love is indeed a many-splendored thing.
Funny, sweet, and …musical. Great dialogue.
Hopefully they don’t use gas heat in the house or they’re both in trouble. Great story as always. I know quite a men and women–not me of course–who could relate to this. The voices were very believable throughout.
Oh I DO love that. What a sweet little romance. Well done 🙂
A sweet story which rings(/trumps?) very true, different to everything of yours that I’ve read before but just as enjoyable as ever. You always write convincingly from a male perspective and your characters were likeable and believable.
Laughing…too..hard…
Love, love, love it.
Even though they’re talking about farts, this is such a well done and sweet story, as others have said. I just love this one.
OMG, my nine year old would *LOVE* this story. It’s exactly his type of humor. Well, that and my husband’s…
LOL, that was really cute, especially the ending. Thanks for the smile!
Ahh…the sweet smell of romance. Well written, Maria. Been a long time since I read a good fart story. Bet you spent a lot of time in the pub researching that one!
Man, I’m glad I’m not that lucky one.
Very funny story Maria, and great voices. Only a fourteen year old boy could do it, heh.
I had a hard time following who was speaking at times, but overall I really enjoyed this story. Fart humor is usually not my thing, but I’ll make an exception for Matt. Farting’s not an affliction for him, but a talent. Who doesn’t like talent?
This was such a great laugh – you have got an ear and half for voices/characters of a type – you write small films, full of color and, in this case – wind! You need to put your hand to a screenplay. I think you’ve got the chops. Great story. X
You’ve got me thinking … I don’t think I’ve ever put a FART in my pieces… In any case, you’ve brought the goods again. Much like yo do every week…
Ha! So amusing. I think my husband would like that and he’s not a big fiction reader.
So glad I didn’t miss this one! Too tooting funny.
I had a bf once who let loose a sack-bomb so loud I thought there had been an explosion. Woke me out of a dead sleep, and he’s just giggling. Ah, relationships…
I’m glad your guy found his soul mate. They have a trumpeting future ahead. 🙂
Loved this!
There were so many good lines in the this but this one…
“Yeah man – feather the throttle.” We all nodded at this…” I just loved.
The dialogue is terrific and has a great authentic ring to it.
Well done.
I enjoyed the humanity of this one. Great job.
Genius – loved every word of this piece. Brilliantly written and such a common issue for both sides of new relationships. Fantastic work 🙂
Priceless! I’ve been away from the mother land now for a good five years and you’ve only gone and hit me over the head with a great big lump of nostalgia with this story. Everything I love about England can be summoned up over a good pint in a decent boozer sharing a laff with my flatulent mates.
Cheers you.
Very funny story – I love the authentic dialgue and the British idioms 🙂 I would throw in a fart pun but I think they’ve all been covered!
That was silly good. Poor bewildered lads. Everybody farts.
This is quite funny! The dialogue in this is really well done, and the ending is a nice way and appropriate way to wrap things up. In a relationship, I feel it’s important to break the fart barrier so everyone can get on with their lives and not be so uncomfortable trying to hold back a decent ripper.