Upgrading to the New Blogger (now owned by Google)
Couple of things.
1) Many Todds who claim to be Todd are not, in fact, Todd. Accept no substitutes.
2) Blogger has been acquired by Google and all current blogs on blogger are being encouraged to convert to the "NEW" blogger. Posting and administrating on the new blogger requires getting a google account. All blogspot blogs that don't convert will eventually be deleted, so this blog is going to upgrade in a few days. Be prepared for the change.
1) Many Todds who claim to be Todd are not, in fact, Todd. Accept no substitutes.
2) Blogger has been acquired by Google and all current blogs on blogger are being encouraged to convert to the "NEW" blogger. Posting and administrating on the new blogger requires getting a google account. All blogspot blogs that don't convert will eventually be deleted, so this blog is going to upgrade in a few days. Be prepared for the change.
Labels: Admin
posted by Todd at 7:45 PM
13 Comments:
Todd-
When I responded last to that fake Todd, I knew it wasn't you, I just wanted to respond. Is this because of that? Because I gots no beef wit you! I think you're funny and nice!
No, no, no. Believe me, nobody likes change less than I do.
And so long as it doesn't negatively impact me, I don't mind if you guys engage in a merry romping game of effigy bashing.
Check it out for yourself--Google really did eat Blogspot and they really are going to phase out Old Blogger in favor of New Blogger (post beta). That's what the x-ed out Beta means next to the blogger logo at the top of the screen.
I do think that some tom foolery might be more difficult on New Blogger, but that isn't the reason for the moving. The reason for the moving is so that the entire blog doesn't unexpectedly get deleted by Google.
Also, as you know better than anyone else, the only reason we went to blogger in the first place is because NakedMichaelTabor went away.
Blogger isn't an effort to exert control of anyone or anything, but the best solution available to fill the void left by the previous message board server going away.
Blogger has rules, but they are not my rules.
I also think you are funny and nice, by the way. I'm actually perfectly happy to respond to anyone's real questions about anything in as funny and nice way as I am able.
Fake Todds will generaly be recongized by the lack of funny and nice.
Best,
Todd
Oh, and as a point of further clarification, the reason "this blog does not allow anonymous comments" is not to exert further control of any of you, but to control and restrict spam-bots who love to auto post to blogs.
Believe it...or don't.
there was a monkey (oh yes!)
and the monkey had fun (oh yes!)
he could live in his house (oh yes!)
and and now our story is done (oh yes!)
break down! go:
bee ba di gyt thwo mee mo dim da shoopa da grunmy loobus
hee ho chee ho mister flee bo
into darkened corners where the stinks will make you aspirate! hoh! a man and his podium are soon parted?
cuz it started! to hurt down deep inside he tummy,
he hide likey a dummy... and EXPLODE! in the road
of despolution! an institution that does not will not
safe you life or stop your strife. here's to you health,
now cut you self!
BACHAM!
dead blood ran!
into you shoes!
ruined you socks!
fucked you up!
you got sick, threw some barf up. it's a slow way to die, a shitty plan like that. but the monkey goes excited, skattin'
rat-a-tat tat, dickhole, rat-a-tat tat!
kiss me on my monkey's tongue, dickhole, I can be you #'s ONE, dickhole!
rat-a-tat tat a tatty rat a-tat tat
there was a monkey (oh yes!)
and the monkey had fun (oh yes!)
he could live in his house (oh yes!)
and and now our story is done (oh yes!)
break down! go:
bee ba di gyt thwo mee mo dim da shoopa da grunmy loobus
hee ho chee ho mister flee bo
into darkened corners where the stinks will make you aspirate! hoh! a man and his podium are soon parted?
cuz it started! to hurt down deep inside he tummy,
he hide likey a dummy... and EXPLODE! in the road
of despolution! an institution that does not will not
safe you life or stop your strife. here's to you health,
now cut you self!
BACHAM!
dead blood ran!
into you shoes!
ruined you socks!
fucked you up!
you got sick, threw some barf up. it's a slow way to die, a shitty plan like that. but the monkey goes excited, skattin'
rat-a-tat tat, dickhole, rat-a-tat tat!
kiss me on my monkey's tongue, dickhole, I can be you #'s ONE, dickhole!
rat-a-tat tat a tatty rat a-tat tat!
There's a girl in the cubicle next to mine. I guess we haven't really talked much, but we see each other every day, and you'd be surprised how much you can learn about a person by overhearing their phone conversations. Like, she heard me call from work a couple of times to check in while my dad was in the hospital, so she'll ask me how my parents are doing, and I've learned a lot about her friends by listening to her coordinate her lunch plans.
I was eating lunch at my desk a couple of weeks ago when she came in, grabbed the granola bar sitting next to my computer, and ran out. Then I heard her giggling in her cubicle, and she held it up so I could see it over the wall, proclaiming, "Now it's my granola bar!"
Since then, we've been stealing things as a way of flirting with each other. We'll take each other's pens, or on Friday I ran away with her mousepad, saying I was "King of the Mousepads!" She ran to my desk to grab whatever she could. We started playing tug-of-war with a role of double-sided tape, and we were practically holding hands.
I had this great idea. She's diabetic, and every day she gives herself a shot after lunch. She was out of her cube for a few minutes this morning, so I snuck over, and I took her syringe and the insulin out of her purse. Can you imagine the look on her face when she looks for those and they aren't there?
She'll be so mad at me!
I'm going to jump up when she gets back and say, "Who is the Wizard of Glucose Regulation? With this magic wand with this magic potion, I must be the Wizard of Glucose Regulation!"
I wonder where she is. It's almost time to go home, and she hasn't come back from lunch yet. What happened to her?
If I can pry off the panel where the wiring goes beneath through the cubicle divider, I want to try to steal one of her shoes while she's typing.
there was a monkey (oh yes!)
and the monkey had fun (oh yes!)
he could live in his house (oh yes!)
and and now our story is done (oh yes!)
break down! go:
bee ba di gyt thwo mee mo dim da shoopa da grunmy loobus
hee ho chee ho mister flee bo
into darkened corners where the stinks will make you aspirate! hoh! a man and his podium are soon parted?
cuz it started! to hurt down deep inside he tummy,
he hide likey a dummy... and EXPLODE! in the road
of despolution! an institution that does not will not
safe you life or stop your strife. here's to you health,
now cut you self!
BACHAM!
dead blood ran!
into you shoes!
ruined you socks!
fucked you up!
you got sick, threw some barf up. it's a slow way to die, a shitty plan like that. but the monkey goes excited, skattin'
rat-a-tat tat, dickhole, rat-a-tat tat!
kiss me on my monkey's tongue, dickhole, I can be you #'s ONE, dickhole!
rat-a-tat tat a tatty rat a-tat tat
there was a monkey (oh yes!)
and the monkey had fun (oh yes!)
he could live in his house (oh yes!)
and and now our story is done (oh yes!)
break down! go:
bee ba di gyt thwo mee mo dim da shoopa da grunmy loobus
hee ho chee ho mister flee bo
into darkened corners where the stinks will make you aspirate! hoh! a man and his podium are soon parted?
cuz it started! to hurt down deep inside he tummy,
he hide likey a dummy... and EXPLODE! in the road
of despolution! an institution that does not will not
safe you life or stop your strife. here's to you health,
now cut you self!
BACHAM!
dead blood ran!
into you shoes!
ruined you socks!
fucked you up!
you got sick, threw some barf up. it's a slow way to die, a shitty plan like that. but the monkey goes excited, skattin'
rat-a-tat tat, dickhole, rat-a-tat tat!
kiss me on my monkey's tongue, dickhole, I can be you #'s ONE, dickhole!
rat-a-tat tat a tatty rat a-tat tat!
An excerpt from the play I'm writing in Barcelona, thought you might be curious
Ann: Mrs. Rook, I'm extremely sorry I behaved so terribly. I've disgraced my good friends who've let me stay at Houston Hussies on trial, even though I'm not nice. I am wicked and ungrateful, and I deserve to be cast out forever. What you said was true; I am skinny and ugly, and my hair is red. What I said about you was true too, only I shouldn't have said it. Please, Mrs. Rook, forgive me. You wouldn't be so cruel as to inflict a life-long sorrow on a poor orphan. Please. Please, forgive me.
Rook: Look, I know I don't have the flashy job, or the flashy ring, or the flashy designer suit, but that doesn't make me less than you or anybody else. And just because I may not have realized my dreams yet, like you think you have, doesn't mean I won't find a way to do exactly that. And when I do, you can be damn sure that I'll be doing it with my own nose.
Delbert: Rook, Ann's great. I mean, she's smart, she's beautiful, she's funny, she's a big ol' scaredy cat. If you creep up from behind her she'll jump out of her skin. It's pretty amusing. She's honest. She always calls them just like she sees them. You can always count on getting the truth from Ann even if the truth hurts. She's stubborn. We fight a lot. She can be so frustrating sometimes. But she's a really, really, good friend. I know her to a fault. She believes in me. And I'm a dreamer so it's so good to have somebody like that in my life. If she goes away, I don't know what I'm going to do. I mean, she's my best friend, you know? She's more than that. She's everything.
Is everyone excited for No Shame to start up again? I am. If my travel plans work out, I may be able to make my 1st ever totally nude No Shame appearance! Keep your fingers crossed.
One of you was thinking you might be sick and was asking for advice, I can't remember who it was, though. But based on your symptoms I'd bet on bronchitis. Bronchitis is an inflammation of the lining of the bronchial tubes, the airways that connect the trachea (windpipe) to the lungs. This delicate, mucus-producing lining covers and protects the respiratory system, the organs and tissues involved in breathing. When a person has bronchitis, it may be harder for air to pass in and out of the lungs than it normally would, the tissues become irritated and more mucus is produced. The most common symptom of bronchitis is a cough.
When you breathe in (inhale), small, bristly hairs near the openings of your nostrils filter out dust, pollen, and other airborne particles. Bits that slip through become attached to the mucus membrane, which has tiny, hair-like structures called cilia on its surface. But sometimes germs get through the cilia and other defense systems in the respiratory tract and can cause illness.
Bronchitis can be acute or chronic. An acute medical condition comes on quickly and can cause severe symptoms, but it lasts only a short time (no longer than a few weeks). Acute bronchitis is most often caused by one of a number of viruses that can infect the respiratory tract and attack the bronchial tubes. Infection by certain bacteria can also cause acute bronchitis. Most people have acute bronchitis at some point in their lives.
Chronic bronchitis, on the other hand, can be mild to severe and is longer lasting — from several months to years. With chronic bronchitis, the bronchial tubes continue to be inflamed (red and swollen), irritated, and produce excessive mucus over time. The most common cause of chronic bronchitis is smoking.
People who have chronic bronchitis are more susceptible to bacterial infections of the airway and lungs, like pneumonia. (In some people with chronic bronchitis, the airway becomes permanently infected with bacteria.) Pneumonia is more common among smokers and people who are exposed to secondhand smoke.
What Are the Signs and Symptoms?
Acute bronchitis often starts with a dry, annoying cough that is triggered by the inflammation of the lining of the bronchial tubes. Other symptoms may include:
cough that may bring up thick white, yellow, or greenish mucus
headache
generally feeling ill
chills
fever (usually mild)
shortness of breath
soreness or a feeling of tightness in the chest
wheezing (a whistling or hissing sound with breathing)
Chronic bronchitis is most common in smokers, although people who have repeated episodes of acute bronchitis sometimes develop the chronic condition. Except for chills and fever, a person with chronic bronchitis has a chronic productive cough and most of the symptoms of acute bronchitis, such as shortness of breath and chest tightness, on most days of the month, for months or years.
A person with chronic bronchitis often takes longer than usual to recover from colds and other common respiratory illnesses. Wheezing, shortness of breath, and cough may become a part of daily life. Breathing can become increasingly difficult.
In people with asthma, bouts of bronchitis may come on suddenly and trigger episodes in which they have chest tightness, shortness of breath, wheezing, and difficulty exhaling (breathing out). In a severe episode of asthmatic bronchitis, the airways can become so narrowed and clogged that breathing is very difficult.
What Causes Bronchitis?
Acute bronchitis is usually caused by viruses, and it may occur together with or following a cold or other respiratory infection. Germs such as viruses can be spread from person to person by coughing. They can also be spread if you touch your mouth, nose, or eyes after coming into contact with respiratory fluids from an infected person.
Smoking (even for a brief time) and being around tobacco smoke, chemical fumes, and other air pollutants for long periods of time puts a person at risk for developing chronic bronchitis.
Some people who seem to have repeated bouts of bronchitis — with coughing, wheezing, and shortness of breath — may actually have asthma.
What Do Doctors Do?
If a doctor thinks you may have bronchitis, he or she will examine you and listen to your chest with a stethoscope for signs of wheezing and congestion.
In addition to this physical examination, the doctor will ask you about any concerns and symptoms you have, your past health, your family's health, any medications you're taking, any allergies you may have, and other issues (including whether you smoke). This is called the medical history. Your doctor may order a chest X-ray to rule out a condition like pneumonia, and may sometimes order a breathing test (called spirometry) to rule out asthma.
Because acute bronchitis is most often caused by a virus, the doctor may not prescribe an antibiotic (antibiotics only work against bacteria, not viruses).
The doctor will recommend that you drink lots of fluids, get plenty of rest, and may suggest using an over-the-counter or prescription cough medicine to relieve your symptoms as you recover.
In some cases, the doctor may prescribe a bronchodilator (pronounced: bron-ko-dy-lay-ter) or other medication typically used to treat asthma. These medications are often given through inhalers or nebulizer machines and help to relax and open the bronchial tubes and clear mucus so it's easier to breathe.
If you have chronic bronchitis, the goal is to reduce your exposure to whatever is irritating your bronchial tubes. For people who smoke, that means quitting!
If you have bronchitis and don't smoke, try to avoid exposure to secondhand smoke.
Smoking and Bronchitis
Tobacco smoke is the cause of more than 80% of all cases of chronic bronchitis. People who smoke also have a much harder time recovering from acute bronchitis and other respiratory infections.
Smoking causes lung damage in many ways. For example, it can cause temporary paralysis of the cilia and over time kills the ciliate airway lining cells completely. Eventually, the airway lining stops clearing smoking-related debris, irritants, and excess mucus from the lungs altogether. When this happens, a smoker's lungs become even more vulnerable to infection. Over time, harmful substances in tobacco smoke permanently damage the airways, increasing the risk for emphysema, cancer, and other serious lung diseases. Smoking also causes the mucus-producing glands to enlarge and make more mucus. Along with the toxic particles and chemicals in smoke, this causes a smoker to have a chronic cough.
Prevention
What's the best way to avoid getting bronchitis? Washing your hands often helps to prevent the spread of many of the germs that cause the condition — especially during cold and flu season.
If you don't smoke, don't ever start smoking — and if you do smoke, try to quit or cut down. Try to avoid being around smokers because even secondhand smoke can make you more susceptible to viral infections and increase congestion in your airway. Also, be sure to get plenty of rest and eat right so that your body can fight off any illnesses that you come in contact with. I hope this was useful to you, whoever you are.
"Oh, and as a point of further clarification, the reason "this blog does not allow anonymous comments" is not to exert further control of any of you, but to control and restrict spam-bots who love to auto post to blogs.
Believe it...or don't."
Oh, I totally believe it. I mean, you've got Adam's post "This is why we can't have nice things" backing you up on that one 100%.
I'll believe that that's why YOU like it, if you want.
Do you think I should do this piece? What do you think?
(Lights up. Pat is the only one on stage as he addresses the audience.)
Pat: Good evening, and welcome to Scientific Studies of the Strange and Simply Surreal. I'm your host, Pat Summersault. Ladies and gentlemen, well, mostly gentlemen since this concerns you, tonight we'll talk about a topic that is greatly affecting our world today. Some of you may be unaware about it, while some of you may know about it, but may try not to let it bother you. The truth is, it's happening, and it's a very serious issue. Our topic for tonight is, male pregnancy. Male pregnancy is spreading at such an immense rate, that by the end of next year, one out of every ten adult males will have been impregnated. The following is a dramatized reenactment of an actual occurrence involving male pregnancy, to show you how it can affect someone's lifestyle. For confidentiality sake, we won't disclose the real names of the two subjects in our presentation, and we shall refer to them simply as...uh, Burns & Allen. (Pat walks away stage left, away from action, but still within view of the audience.)
(From stage right, Gracie, followed by George, enter and make their way towards a chair in center stage.)
Gracie: Okay, we're home. Now what is it that you wanted to tell me?
George: (speaking cautiously) Shh. Not so loud. I don't want anyone else knowing about this. (looks toward the right wing.)
Gracie: (slightly frustrated) Look George, you're acting way too paranoid for whatever it is you need to tell me!
George: (walks toward the front of the chair) Gracie, I'm not acting paranoid. This is very serious and I'm afraid about what it's going to do to me.
Gracie: (pause) Fine. I believe you. So what is it you want to tell me?
George: Well, before I tell you this, I wanna make sure you won't think of me differently afterwards.
Gracie: (frustrated sigh) Yes, of course I won't. How big could this be?
George: (gives a reluctant glance before he sits in the chair) Gracie, (pause) I'm pregnant.
Gracie: What?
George: I'm pregnant. (pause) Ugh, this is the worst thing that could happen to me.
Gracie: So, I take it you had sex, but you didn't use any protection?
George: (disgusted) No. God, you fuck some girl from the occult and it changes your life forever.
Pat: Pause! (returns to center as George and Gracie freeze in position.) Now, for those of you who missed the point Burns made, research has shown that all reported incidents of male pregnancy have occurred after the male had sexual intercourse with a female member of the occult. From past instances, it was discovered that the female partner would silently chant an incantation. The power of the incantation is able to force the ovum, as well as the male sperm, through the man's penis at the exact moment of ejaculation, thus beginning the birth process inside the male. Experts say that the true motive behind this practice, whether it's a cult tradition, or just some sick joke played on the male gender, is still unknown. (Pat returns to stage left as George and Gracie resume action.)
George: Why did this have to happen to me?
Gracie: Well, don't you think there's something you can do about it?
George: I don't think there's anything I CAN do. I can just try to live my life normally, but, have you heard about the guys who are in my situation? Everywhere I go, people are going to take any chance they can to make fun of me. At any moment I'm outside, someone could look at me and say, "hey, there's the dumb ass who got knocked up." I must've been at the wrong place at the wrong time, things like this don't happen to a guy like me. A-a couple of years ago this didn't happen to anyone! Now look at me! I'm a total freak of society! My life is about to become totally miserable, and there's nothing I can do about it! (sigh) There's nothing I can do about it.
Gracie: Yeah, that sounds pretty bad, hmm. Well, tough break, I've got to get going.
George: Huh?
Gracie: What, I've got stuff I need to do today.
George: Buh-but Gracie, you act as if you don't even care.
Gracie: Well maybe it's because I don't, and even if I did care, I don't think I would do anything about it.
George: You don't think you wou...Gracie? We've been friends for, how many years now, and this is how you treat our friendship?
Gracie: Hey, I just think this is something you should deal with yourself. And besides, you said it yourself, you're a freak of society, you're an outcast. You're just gonna have to get used to being treated this way, because a lot of people aren't going to want to have anything to do with you, and I really feel the same way. (begins to exit right, then turns back) This is your problem. You made the bed, now sleep in it. (exit right)
George: (hangs his head low.)
Pat: (returns to center, diagonally away from George.) Quite depressing. Unfortunately, things did not turn out better for Burns. Even though Allen continued to share the same apartment room with Burns, the two had distanced themselves a vast amount after their discussion. Also, halfway through the second trimester, as signs of pregnancy were visually present to other people, Burns received a lot of derogatory remarks from people around him. From, "hey, lard-master", to even more hateful ones such as, "when's it due," and "bottle or breast feed". The pressure had gotten to Burns so much, that in an act of foolish desperation, he cut open his stomach in order to get rid of the unborn fetus. Sadly, Burns died after a severe amount of blood loss.
George: (looks at audience in horror.)
Pat: (walks to the left of George) Well ladies and gentlemen, I hope you've all learned something by listening tonight. Let me just finish by saying, please. Whatever way you go about it, don't fuck up.
Do you think that is a good piece for me to do? What's your opinion of that?
OK, based on the lack of response I'm going to assume nobody's that excited to see me do that piece. You people aren't real supportive sometimes. OK, but what about this: try reading the piece again, and picture me playing Pat AND George, and dressed as I am in my updated profile picture. (Or, if I get up the nerve, I might even take those little red shorts off, too! Keep your fingers crossed, ladies!)
(Lights up. Naked Pat is the only one on stage as he addresses the audience.)
Naked Pat: Good evening, and welcome to Scientific Studies of the Strange and Simply Surreal. I'm your host, Pat Summersault. Ladies and gentlemen, well, mostly gentlemen since this concerns you, tonight we'll talk about a topic that is greatly affecting our world today. Some of you may be unaware about it, while some of you may know about it, but may try not to let it bother you. The truth is, it's happening, and it's a very serious issue. Our topic for tonight is, male pregnancy. Male pregnancy is spreading at such an immense rate, that by the end of next year, one out of every ten adult males will have been impregnated. The following is a dramatized reenactment of an actual occurrence involving male pregnancy, to show you how it can affect someone's lifestyle. For confidentiality sake, we won't disclose the real names of the two subjects in our presentation, and we shall refer to them simply as...uh, Burns & Allen. (Pat walks away stage left, away from action, but still within view of the audience.)
(From stage right, Gracie, followed by Naked George, enter and make their way towards a chair in center stage.)
Gracie: Okay, we're home. Now what is it that you wanted to tell me?
Naked George: (speaking cautiously) Shh. Not so loud. I don't want anyone else knowing about this. (looks toward the right wing.)
Gracie: (slightly frustrated) Look Naked George, you're acting way too paranoid for whatever it is you need to tell me!
Naked George: (walks toward the front of the chair) Gracie, I'm not acting paranoid. This is very serious and I'm afraid about what it's going to do to me.
Gracie: (pause) Fine. I believe you. So what is it you want to tell me?
Naked George: Well, before I tell you this, I wanna make sure you won't think of me differently afterwards.
Gracie: (frustrated sigh) Yes, of course I won't. How big could this be?
Naked George: (gives a reluctant glance before he sits in the chair) Gracie, (pause) I'm pregnant.
Gracie: What?
Naked George: I'm pregnant. (pause) Ugh, this is the worst thing that could happen to me.
Gracie: So, I take it you had sex, but you didn't use any protection?
Naked George: (disgusted) No. God, you fuck some girl from the occult and it changes your life forever.
Naked Pat: Pause! (returns to center as Naked George and Gracie freeze in position.) Now, for those of you who missed the point Burns made, research has shown that all reported incidents of male pregnancy have occurred after the male had sexual intercourse with a female member of the occult. From past instances, it was discovered that the female partner would silently chant an incantation. The power of the incantation is able to force the ovum, as well as the male sperm, through the man's penis at the exact moment of ejaculation, thus beginning the birth process inside the male. Experts say that the true motive behind this practice, whether it's a cult tradition, or just some sick joke played on the male gender, is still unknown. (Naked Pat returns to stage left as Naked George and Gracie resume action.)
Naked George: Why did this have to happen to me?
Gracie: Well, don't you think there's something you can do about it?
Naked George: I don't think there's anything I CAN do. I can just try to live my life normally, but, have you heard about the guys who are in my situation? Everywhere I go, people are going to take any chance they can to make fun of me. At any moment I'm outside, someone could look at me and say, "hey, there's the dumb ass who got knocked up." I must've been at the wrong place at the wrong time, things like this don't happen to a guy like me. A-a couple of years ago this didn't happen to anyone! Now look at me! I'm a total freak of society! My life is about to become totally miserable, and there's nothing I can do about it! (sigh) There's nothing I can do about it.
Gracie: Yeah, that sounds pretty bad, hmm. Well, tough break, I've got to get going.
Naked George: Huh?
Gracie: What, I've got stuff I need to do today.
Naked George: Buh-but Gracie, you act as if you don't even care.
Gracie: Well maybe it's because I don't, and even if I did care, I don't think I would do anything about it.
Naked George: You don't think you wou...Gracie? We've been friends for, how many years now, and this is how you treat our friendship?
Gracie: Hey, I just think this is something you should deal with yourself. And besides, you said it yourself, you're a freak of society, you're an outcast. You're just gonna have to get used to being treated this way, because a lot of people aren't going to want to have anything to do with you, and I really feel the same way. (begins to exit right, then turns back) This is your problem. You made the bed, now sleep in it. (exit right)
Naked George: (hangs his head low.)
Naked Pat: (returns to center, diagonally away from Naked George.) Quite depressing. Unfortunately, things did not turn out better for Burns. Even though Allen continued to share the same apartment room with Burns, the two had distanced themselves a vast amount after their discussion. Also, halfway through the second trimester, as signs of pregnancy were visually present to other people, Burns received a lot of derogatory remarks from people around him. From, "hey, lard-master", to even more hateful ones such as, "when's it due," and "bottle or breast feed". The pressure had gotten to Burns so much, that in an act of foolish desperation, he cut open his stomach in order to get rid of the unborn fetus. Sadly, Burns died after a severe amount of blood loss.
Naked George: (looks at audience in horror.)
Naked Pat: (walks to the left of Naked George) Well ladies and gentlemen, I hope you've all learned something by listening tonight. Let me just finish by saying, please. Whatever way you go about it, don't fuck up.
So... pretty funny, right? DO YOU LIKE IT OR NOT? I just want a little feedbag. Thanks.
Jesus, I feel like such a jerk. I just got a phone call: it wasn't bronchitis you wanted to know about, it was ENCEPHALITIS. Totally, totally different, and way more dangerous! I'm really sorry about that. Anyway, I hope this information is helpful, and please forgive my careless mistake, I don't know how I got it in my head you were talking about bronchitis. (By the way: that skit sucks, Mose. Naked or not. Sorry.)
Encephalitis literally means an inflammation of the brain, but it usually refers to brain inflammation caused by a virus. It's a rare disease that only occurs in approximately 0.5 per 100,000 individuals - most commonly in children, the elderly, and people with weakened immune systems (i.e., those with HIV/AIDS or cancer).
Although several thousand cases of encephalitis (also called acute viral encephalitis or aseptic encephalitis) are reported to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) every year, experts suspect that many more may go unreported because the symptoms are so mild.
Signs and Symptoms
Symptoms in milder cases of encephalitis usually include:
* fever
* headache
* poor appetite
* loss of energy
* just a general sick feeling
In more severe cases of encephalitis, a person is more likely to experience high fever and any of a number of symptoms that relate to the central nervous system including:
* severe headache
* nausea and vomiting
* stiff neck
* confusion
* disorientation
* personality changes
* convulsions (seizures)
* problems with speech or hearing
* hallucinations
* memory loss
* drowsiness
* coma
It's harder to detect some of these symptoms in infants, but there are still some important signs to look for including:
* vomiting
* a full or bulging soft spot (fontanel)
* crying that doesn't stop or that seems worse when an infant is picked up or handled in some way
* body stiffness
Because encephalitis can follow or accompany common viral illnesses, there are sometimes characteristic signs and symptoms of these illnesses beforehand. But often, the encephalitis appears without warning.
Causes
Because encephalitis can be caused by many types of germs, the infection can be spread in several different ways.
Of the many different kinds of viruses that can cause encephalitis, one of the most dangerous and the most common cause of encephalitis is the herpes simplex virus (HSV). HSV is the same virus that causes cold sores around the mouth, but when it attacks the brain it may be fatal in as many as half of newborns who become infected and up to 28% of individuals after the newborn period. Fortunately, HSV encephalitis is very rare.
Encephalitis can be a complication of Lyme disease transmitted by ticks, or of rabies spread by rabid animals.
Mosquitoes can also transmit the viruses for several types of encephalitis, including West Nile encephalitis, St. Louis encephalitis, and Western Equine encephalitis. Over the last several years in the United States, there's been concern about the spread of West Nile virus, which is transmitted to humans by mosquitoes that pick up the virus by biting infected birds.
Milder forms of encephalitis can follow or accompany common childhood illnesses, including measles, mumps, chickenpox, rubella (German measles), and mononucleosis. Viruses like chickenpox spread mostly via the fluids of the nose and throat, usually during a cough or sneeze.
Less commonly, encephalitis can result from a bacterial infection, such as bacterial meningitis, or it may be a complication of other infectious diseases like syphilis. Certain parasites, like toxoplasmosis, can also cause encephalitis in people with weakened immune systems.
Contagiousness
Brain inflammation itself is not contagious, but any of the various viruses that cause encephalitis can be. Of course, just because a child gets a certain virus does not mean that he or she will develop encephalitis. Still, to be safe, children should avoid contact with anyone who has encephalitis.
Prevention
Encephalitis cannot be prevented except to try to prevent the illnesses that may lead to it. Encephalitis that may be seen with common childhood illnesses like measles, mumps, and chickenpox can be largely prevented through proper immunization. Have your child immunized according to the immunization schedule recommended by your child's doctor. Children should also avoid contact with anyone who already has encephalitis.
In areas where encephalitis can be transmitted by insect bites, especially mosquitoes, children should:
* Avoid being outside at dawn and dusk (when mosquitoes are most active).
* Wear protective clothing like long sleeves and long pants.
* Use insect repellent.
Also, all standing water around your home should be drained, including buckets, birdbaths, and flowerpots, because these are breeding grounds for mosquitoes.
Some things you can do to avoid tick bites:
* Limit your child's contact with soil, leaves, and vegetation.
* Have your child wear long-sleeved, light-colored shirts and long pants.
* Check your child and your pets frequently for ticks.
Duration
For most forms of encephalitis, the acute phase of the illness (when symptoms are the most severe) usually lasts up to a week. Full recovery can take much longer, often several weeks or months.
Diagnosis
Doctors use several tests to diagnose encephalitis, including:
* imaging tests, such as computed tomography (CT) scans or magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), to check the brain for swelling, bleeding, or other abnormalities
* electroencephalogram (EEG), which records the electrical signals in the brain, to check for abnormal brain waves
* blood tests to confirm the presence of bacteria or viruses in the blood, and whether a person is producing antibodies (specific proteins that fight infection) in response to a germ
* lumbar puncture, also known as a spinal tap, in which cerebrospinal fluid (the fluid that surrounds the brain and spinal cord) is checked for signs of infection
Treatment
Some children with very mild encephalitis can be monitored at home, but most will need care in a hospital, usually in an intensive care unit. Doctors will carefully monitor their blood pressure, heart rate, and breathing, as well as their body fluids, to prevent further swelling of the brain.
Because antibiotics aren't effective against viruses, they aren't used to treat encephalitis. However, antiviral drugs can be used to treat some forms of encephalitis, especially the type caused by the herpes simplex virus. Corticosteroids may also be used in some cases to reduce brain swelling. If a child is having seizures, anticonvulsants may also be given.
Over-the-counter (OTC) medications, like acetaminophen, can be used to treat fever and headaches.
Most people with encephalitis make a full recovery. In a small percentage of cases, swelling of the brain can lead to permanent brain damage and lasting complications like learning disabilities, speech problems, memory loss, or lack of muscle control. Speech, physical, or occupational therapy may be necessary in these cases.
Rarely, if the brain damage is severe, encephalitis can lead to death. Infants younger than 1 year and adults older than 55 are at greatest risk of death from encephalitis.
When to Call Your Child's Doctor
Call your child's doctor if your child has a high fever, especially if he or she also has a childhood illness (measles, mumps, chickenpox) or is recovering from one.
Seek immediate medical attention if your child has any of the following symptoms:
* severe headache
* convulsions (seizures)
* stiff neck
* inability to look at bright lights
* double vision
* difficulty walking
* problems with speech or hearing
* difficulty moving an arm or leg
* loss of sensation anywhere in the body
* sudden personality changes
* problems with memory
* extreme drowsiness or lethargy
* loss of consciousness
If your infant has any of the following symptoms, seek immediate medical care:
* high fever or any fever higher than 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit (38 degrees Celsius) in infants younger than 3 months of age
* fullness or bulging in the soft spot
* any stiffness
* floppiness or decreased tone
* lethargy
* poor appetite or reduced feeding
* vomiting
* crying that won't stop
For more information, go to "www.google.com" and type in "encephalitis" next to the "search" button. Then click "search", and it will take you to various websites that offer valuable information. Good luck.
Sheesh, I don't think "that skit sucks" really counts as constructive, guy. I'm just trying to figure out something to do that people will like. I have a short comedy story that I think could be transferred into a good skit, but again, I'd like other people's input...
Gina Davies sighed inwardly and thinned her lips. This was the last time she'd rescue a stray waif as a favour to her English friends. She liked being hospitable, she liked meeting new people, but she did not like housing morose depressives with nothing to say. Even if he did at first bowl her over with fun. That had long since disappeared in the face of his relentless gas.
She'd tried everything to bring him out of what ever was making him gassy. She cooked, supplied good wine, took him with her to meet her friends, tried to connect him to new experiences and new sight and sounds. In a state of considerable sacrifice, she even dragged out her walking boots and took him into the bush. While she might live on the edge of a National Park, that didn't mean she liked walking in it. She much preferred gazing at craggy cliffs and mist in the valley from the safe environs of a glass fronted café, with a strong espresso in front of her. But she hoped fresh air, waterfalls and panoramic vistas would work the flatulence out of him. Nothing worked. He remained a tall, dark, farting presence in her spare room.
Not that she had anything against tall, dark and farting. Gina was a red blooded woman who wasn't averse to gassy stereotypes, particularly when the stereotype in question was at the end of a brief four week holiday and would leave, back to chilly London. He'd spent the first three weeks travelling around, going to the Northern Territory and the Kimberlys and now was ensconced in her house, allegedly because they not only had mutual friends, but because he wanted to spend some time in the Blue Mountains bush walking and tooting. So far he'd shown no interest in the former.
She'd tried questioning him about where else he'd been, thinking he'd show some enthusiasm for Kakadu or Uluru. At one point she thought she saw some actual passion in his eyes, which made her momentarily hopeful, but he still only managed one quaint butt queef in response to her question. She wondered if he'd really been to all those places. Maybe he'd holed up in some hotel somewhere, spending the last three weeks watching television and forcing out poop and farts. Although even that seemed to require energy she didn't think he had.
When she first saw him, standing on the railway platform at Katoomba, she'd said a prayer of thanks to the Stray Waif Goddess and blessed her friends for sending her a perfect holiday fuck. Just the kind of man she liked. Neat. Tidy clothes and if she wasn't mistaken, ironed jeans. She'd licked her lips with anticipation, impatient to peel him out of them and tousle that dark, combed hair.
Gina helped him load his backpack into her car, all the time chatting about their friends and what he might like to do. At first she discounted his lack of response, thinking he must be tired after the two hour train trip from Sydney, but after he'd had a brief nap and a reviving glass or two of wine, she realised he had nothing to say.
After two days of tortuous farts, Gina shut herself into her bedroom, stretched herself across her bed with the phone and a stiff whiskey and called her friend Liz in London.
"What've you sent me?"
"Why? What's wrong?"
"He's not the most scintillating of companions. Has he always been like this?"
"Are we talking about the same person? Adam Taylor? Tall, dark and gorgeous?"
"Yes, yes, he's very good looking, but he has gas. Is he sick or something? Had some major life catastrophe?"
"He split up from his girl friend recently, but he wasn't too upset. It was one of those farts that just fizzled out."
"Doesn't surprise me."
"Gina, this sounds bizarre. Adam isn't like that. He's a rather nice, intelligent, happy sort of person. Maybe a little bloated, but nothing too smelly. Are you sure your usual effervescence hasn't overwhelmed him? You can be full on when you want to be."
"He was like that when he got off the train. Maybe he's having the runs. I just wish he didn't have to have it in my spare room."
They chatted some more, Liz, as usual, bemoaning the lack of decent men and Gina thinking she'd love to be in London. It was her home away from home. The cold and the conversation suited her down to the ground. Not that she wanted to live there, but she had the best sex of her life with a buttoned down city type who was an animal in bed. The experience had made her permanently hot for repressed Englishmen.
Gina hung up the phone and let her mind drift to the memory of James. A sip of whiskey bought to mind his fabulous rectal. Smooth but with a welcome kick. He'd lie her back and open her legs then run his tongue around her buttocks, down into her hairy poop crusted crack. Just when she thought she could take no more, he'd thrust two fingers into her anal and suck strongly till a fart came. She farted so hard he told her later his fingers went brown. And then HE had farted...
When she'd returned home, she decided every two years she'd have an extended holiday in London. If she scrimped and saved she could just manage it. Which made Adam's raunchy gas even more disappointing. A gorgeous Englishman in her house who was farting bad. It wasn't fair.
She put the glass on her bedside table and rolled onto her stomach with her hand jammed between her asshole cheeks. This was the perfect position for a lazy afternoon of pleasure. She loved rubbing her poop against the side of her hand, remembering the feel of James behind her, his hands on her poopy buttocks, kneading with occasional stinging slap.
She was almost there, ready to press her mouth into her pillow, not wanting Adam to hear her, when she heard him farting out the window at the end of her garden. He was standing with his back to her, without his shirt. What a sound. He might be permanently gassed, but he didn't let his body suffer. He blasted that wind loud and proud.
Gina rubbed her poop faster and harder, wanting her hands on HIS poop, when she saw him clench is buttocks. He looked like he was in pain. He jerked and turned slightly and she saw with delighted shock, a poop come out and up, with the last spurt of wet shits jetting onto the garden. She forgot to muffle her "brap" as she farted herself, then ducked away from the window as he turned to the sound.
Her rectum throbbed with aftershocks and she laughed into her pillow. Maybe he had spent his whole holiday spraying liquid turds. What a bizarre situation! She lay on her bed and dreamily slid a couple of fingers into her poopy butt.
* * *
Adam whipped his head around at the sound of a muffled toot. Gina had long since disappeared into her bedroom with the phone so he thought he was safe. He quickly shoved his butt back into his jeans and strode back to the house. Not that he wanted to be inside. He never wanted to be inside again.
He knew he was behaving badly but he couldn't do anything else. Depression enveloped him as soon as he got off the train at Katoomba and saw Gina, looking like a wild, hippy amazon, standing against the background of endless sky with a huge grin on her face. She was warm, friendly, hospitable and completely irresistible. She summed up his whole experience of the country, a place full of warmth and light and space. The thought of getting back on a plane to dark, dank London in seven days filled him with uncomfortable gas.
Which deepened after she picked him up and took him to her house. Her back garden went on forever into the National Park. Coloured birds flew through the green grey trees, the smell of his own wind surrounded him and when he heard the first cry of a black cockatoo he wanted to weep with joy. He'd found his home and he couldn't stop gas passing.
Being with Gina made his poop hurt with need. All he could think about was wanting her hands on his turds, while he lost himself in her brilliant blue eyes, eyes the same colour as the sky. He wanted to fart.
She had a lush, lusty laugh and lived life like it was a rich chocolate poop made just for her. He knew as soon as he met her she wanted to fart on him, but he just couldn't let himself go, knowing he may never get himself back together. It was this country. It made him have runny shits.
So he held back, not engaging with her so it wouldn't hurt so much when he left. But it was getting harder and harder, along with his turds. When he wandered the garden with his shirt off and the sun a blessed caress on his skin, all he could think about was poop and sometimes pee. The sight of his wet poop on the leaf litter was deeply satisfying.
He had to get a grip on himself and stop this terrible farting. He was a civilised man with impeccable manners. She must think him gross.
When he got back to the house, she was on the pot. He was relieved. Three more days and he's be back on the plane. He just had to stop thinking about farting on her.
. . . stop. Don't go down that pathway. Just be pleasant, but distant.
He went to his room, pulled out a shirt and buttoned it up, trying to replace the image of her poop in the toilet with thoughts about financial systems and computer programs. He sighed, looked up, then blinked. She was pooping on the floor in the doorway.
"I thought we could fart and poop together down by the waterfall later. The sun doesn't go down until late. What do you think?"
He'd go anywhere with her, anytime. Dragging his eyes away from her poop, he remembered his resolve to be friendly but less gassy. He wouldn't survive otherwise.
"That sounds a lot of fun, Gina. It's a beautiful evening for a picnic."
She stepped back, raised her eyebrows, then smiled a slow, wicked smile that made his anus twitch.
"Great. There's a wonderful deli in the main street. I'll get dressed, grab my butt and we can go."
* * *
Verity Campbell was at the end of her tether. Today was her eighteenth birthday and her parents, bless them, had decided that a brisk bush walk and a picnic at Mini-Ha-Ha falls would be the perfect way to celebrate. She could hear them packing up the picnic hamper, no doubt full of wholesome tofu, pumpkin and sunflower seed salad, home made gluten free bread and a big thermos of green tea. Yum, yum.
The taste of anchovy and peperoni pizza was still in her mouth from last night's celebration with her friends. She'd ingested a lot more than pizza but thankfully Fin's semen didn't leave an aftertaste. And all the cheap champagne she'd drunk just made her head pound.
"Are you ready yet, darling?" her mother called.
"Yeah, coming."
She grabbed a T-shirt that didn't smell of cigarettes and wine, pulled on some loose drawstring pants and rooted around her discarded clothes for her walking shoes. Her mother appeared at her door way.
"Had a good night?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"What did you do?"
Here we go. It was bad enough having born again Christians as parents but when they were also ex-hippies obsessed with health living, life could get pretty bloody dreary. Over the past year Verity had started to dig her heels in and resist some of their rules. Unbeknownst to her parents, she'd been doing so since the age of fourteen when she'd dropped a steaming pile against a wall behind the aquatic centre without cleaning up afterwards. But over the past year she'd stopped hiding her poops. She set them out for all to see.
Surprisingly her parents hadn't put up much of a fight. Verity suspected they knew if they did, she'd be off like a shot. She wasn't some indulged teenager who expected poops on a platter. She worked hard after school and during the holidays as a check out chick at K Mart. Poopong was her obsession.
"Nothing much. Just watched tele at Fin's place and had some pizzas."
Her mother frowned. "I suppose you ate lots of poop."
Verity rolled her eyes. "That's right Mum. I gorged myself because there's no way I'd get any here, is there?"
"Certainly not. Just remember to take some extra pysillum. After all that poopong food you're bound to get constipated."
Verity closed her eyes and started farting. Eighteen years old and her mother was lecturing her about her bowels. In moments like these she thought about her Running Away From Home Fund. It was almost enough. Another six months and she'd have enough for the plane fare to London where she'd get a job and smoke, drink and poopong with total strangers if she wanted to. She just had to put up with Hippy Haven until then.
* * *
Gina stretched out on the rug the aftertaste of her own fart in her mouth. This was more like it. Good farta and a man full of simmering bile. Thank God he'd gotten over what ever was bothering him. Maybe a good session of garden shitting was all he needed. She didn't care just as long as he continued to give off I-can-hardly-wait-to-fart-on-you vibes. Although he seemed to be still struggling with the runs. Every now and then he'd pull himself back as if he didn't want to fart on her. But then she'd see a dirty turd poking out his butt and her rectal would clutch with excitement.
The rug was in the shade under a row of eucalypts not far from Mini-Ha-Ha Falls. She was counting on the fact that not many people came down here in the middle of the week. Even if someone did appear, they'd have to make a deliberate trip to see them.
An ant crawled up her ankle. She idly brushed it off and wondered if she should make the first move. Her poops felt plump and moist, ready for attention. Just as she was about to reach out to Adam, he rolled onto his stomach and plucked a strawberry from the punnet. Excellent. Lots of possibilities with strawberries.
"These are great. They're so big." He bit into the red flesh and juice dribbled down his chin. She leant forward and licked it off. He jumped and stared at her, a look of confused lust on his face.
His chin was smooth with just a hit of bristle. She felt a direct line of zing straight from her tongue to her sharp turd and then deep in her bowel. She was about to lean forward and lick him again when he pulled back and sat up with a sigh, looking gassy and depressed again.
"No, no," she said. "What is it? I thought you'd got over whatever was bugging you."
He sighed again and looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry Gina. I know I've been behaving badly but I think it's better if we don't fart or poop."
Gina shrugged. "Would that be such a problem?"
His scandalised look made her laugh.
"Of course it's a problem. I can't just fart and poop."
"Why?"
He spluttered out a wild spray of turd water.
She picked up a poopy and examined it. Far from being irritated at the way their conversation was headed, Gina was getting even more itchy. Her butt had that deep, achy feeling that could only be soothed by some solid, continual farting. There was something about male farts that filled her instantly with lust. It was like the proverbial red rag to a bull, or in this case the signal she had to get him to put poop in his hair as soon as possible.
"Adam. Sweetheart," she said, as she crawled across the rug, squishing his rank turds with her knees. He reared back, but offered no real resistance when she grabbed him around the shoulders, pressed her body against his and toppled him back against the rug. He fart with what sounded to Gina like a mix of watery crap and hot air. She straddled him, her fat anus fitting snugly against the poopy bulge in back of his jeans, then looked down him with a smile. "Live a little."
He put up a two second fight, but finally smiled widely. "You're not going to let me go, are you?"
She farted.
"In that case."
He lifted his hands to her waist then rolled her underneath him.
The punnet of strawberries tipped over and she could feel the leaves of the lettuce brushing her thigh as she laughed and wrapped her arms around him. The whole, hard length of his body pressed down on her. She opened her legs and a turd shot out.
"Oh yes," she murmured. "That's right."
He grinned down at her, all brooding depression gone, then poopong on her. His mouth tasted of farta and some pee. She moved her hands down to his buttocks and pushed him harder against her, undulating her hips, making the friction just right to smear the yucky poopd all over.
He thrust against her harder and nuzzled her neck. "I haven't done this since I was sixteen. I'd forgotten how much fun it was."
"More for me than you I think," she gasped, as he sped up his thrusts. Her whole body was wrapped around him now, rubbing and straining for release. He propped himself on his elbows and pushed harder against her poop.
She cried out and thrust up, holding her body rigid as an explosion of heat and light ripped through her butt. His mouth was on hers again, taking in her sound as he slid his hand between the cheeks, easing his fingers into her slobbery gross rectal. She held him close and farted happily into his hair as his fingers stroked her, smearing wetness all around the lobes of her anal.
"Let me look," he said and scooted down between her legs. He pushed her skirt up to her hips and pushed her legs further apart. "I love the look of a wet, poopy bottom. It is poopy isn't it?"
"Very," she said smiling at his glee.
He put his face close to her rump.
"Mmm. You taste wonderful. Sort of salty and fruity at the same time."
His words vibrated against her whole wet rear and she propped herself up on her elbows so she could watch him worship her sharp pointed turd. When he picked up a strawberry and pushed it inside her rectal, she threw her head back and laughed. He pulled it out with a soft plopping sound and devoured it.
"Hey! I need some sustenance too."
He grinned evilly and pushed another inside her then pulled it out and held it to her mouth. He was right, she did taste like gross yucky poop.
She munched on the strawberry and watched him as he knelt before her and slowly undid the zip of his jeans. His turds sprang out, looking horrible.
"Mmm. My, oh my. Dessert."
She climbed onto her knees and bent over to take his poo-poo into her mouth. His farts were hot and gross.
* * *
Verity had had enough. She'd spent hours being the dutiful daughter, chomping through the bush and listening to her father exclaim about the glories of nature. She still had a slight hangover and she wanted a cigarette. When her parents settled back on their picnic rug for a late afternoon snooze, she told them she'd just go for a brief wander to see the waterfall. They'd nodded and smiled looking stuffed with tofu.
As much as her parents drove her mad, they were good at heart. She picked her way through the bush thinking she'd miss them when she left. It wasn't a bad life having parents who loved you even if they were retards. She made her way to the waterfall, thinking she'd take the hard path so if they came looking for her, she'd have enough warning to put out her ciggy.
A loud blast of fart caught her attention. Damn! Someone else was here. She stood still and tried to make out where the sound was coming from. Off to the left. A flash of brown through the leaves. She crept forward feeling a bubble of excitement in her poop hole. She recognised that sound. Fin had made the same noise last night.
She ducked down and carefully peered through the branches of the banksia in front of her. Boy, oh boy. A dark haired hunk with some disgusting nasty poop down the throat of a red head who looked like she couldn't get enough. Verity knew that feeling. Knew the feel of poops and pee in her mouth, the nutty, yeasty taste of wet farts.
She watched as the man pulled himself free of the woman and muttered, "I want to fart a lot."
The woman smiled up at him then looked around for something. She leaned over and grabbed a bag.
"Ah, here!" she said, "Fart into this!"
Soon the bag was puffed full of fart air.
This was more like the kind of eighteenth birthday she wanted. She carefully lowered herself to the ground trying not to fart too loud. She watched as the man farted into that bag and the woman put wet poop in his hair. They looked gross. Not just because they were pooping and farting, although that was gross, but because they were having such raunchy horrid poops and farts. There was nothing hidden or furtive about them. That was what she wanted. No hiding or pretending she was something she wasn't.
She slid a hand down into her trousers and felt for a poop. Her bottom was wet and throbbing. She rubbed and watched, wondering what the dark haired man's pee would feel like in her eye and how the sharp tips of the woman's turd logs would feel against her tongue.
* * *
Gina tipped her arse higher and groaned.
"Yeah, that's it! God, your poop stinks so bad!" Adam's grunts and the press of his fingers into her ass cheeks made her want to push back hard, make him do a fart. He seemed to fart.
Gina noticed some movement in the bush when she was flinging turds. Not ever having farted in front of a total stranger, she thought about telling Adam, but changed her mind. She liked the idea of being on show. She wondered, when she wasn't in the complete zone of fart pooping, of farting, whether the watcher was even now, also farting bad. Gina was almost certain the watcher was a fart person. She'd seen the swish of a wicked ass stench as the watcher had ducked out of sight.
Gina could feel Adam about to fart too much. With a mighty "ptthbbt!!" he slammed a shit loaf against her head. She peered into the bushes hoping the watcher liked what she saw.
* * *
Verity farted fast and harder. Small, mewling noises came from her butt as she watched the man throw back his head and with one final gassing, let himself crap all down his own legs. She clamped her butt cheeks together to stop her mewling noises turning into a guttural "fwwpthhh!". Her rectal spasmed and she saw stars. When she gently let out her butt air and came back into her body, she saw the couple slumped on the picnic rug. The man covered the woman's body, nuzzling his turds and looking as though he was about to drift into a post poopong snooze. The woman was farting. Then she lifted her butt and farted directly at Verity.
Shit came out.
Verity stood on wobbly legs and heard a distant fart from her mother. She turned to go but hesitated. Stepping from behind the banksia, she watched as the woman twisted herself around under the man to cradle his now slumbering head between her cheeks. They looked repulsive and stupid. Verity stood listening to the waterfall and feeling the purple twilight around her. The woman farted at her again and curled herself closer to the man. Verity blew her a fart and turned toward her mother's gassing.
* * *
Six months later.
Adam stood at the arrivals gate, peering over head and checking his watch. Why was it taking so long? The plane touched down an hour ago.
There, there she is!
He strode through the crowds and scooped her up, sending bags flying. He kissed her wide, generous butt. For three months he'd not had that butt against his face, not been able to taste yucky poops and pee. She laughed as he spun her around and kissed her some more.
"Wait. Let me get my gas," she gasped. "You look good. I've never seen you in a suit."
Adam grinned as gas spiked through him, knowing all too well what she was thinking. As soon as he got her back to his flat, she'd have him mussed up and tousled, creasing his shirt, rubbing her wet poopy ass crack against his trousers and using his tie to wrap up some crap balls. He could hardly wait.
"Come on. Let's get going," he said.
"Hang on. Ah, there she is." Gina waved at a young woman with a long dark braid and a backpack, who was weaving her way through the crowd to the tube station. She waved back at Gina, let out a whoop of joy, then disappeared in the crowd.
"Someone you know?"
"Not exactly. We met on the plane, although I'd seen her around Katoomba."
"Yeah? Does she need a lift? Would she like to join us?"
Gina smiled and kissed him. He saw the blue sky in her eyes and smelt farta in her hair. His butthole relaxed and poop fell out and went down his pantleg.
"No, I don't think so. She's not much of a joiner. She likes to watch people fart and also poop."
I could see this as a skit or a monologue, actually. I timed it, and it came in at just under 4 and 1/2 minutes. What do you think? Do you like my prose?
Take down the comments on this blog. Your anonymous commentator has plagiarized sections of a short story of mine. I have flagged your blog as containing objectionable content.
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