Rarefied Air ~ Comedy Open Mic Round 5

Rarefied Air

I don’t think I am the only man on this planet to use the diminutive personal fart as a way to make a statement. To be fair, I have known some women in my life who were also not averse to commenting on life with compressed gas emanating from deep within their being.

A WTF or, Weaponized Tactical Fart can say so much. And then there are other considerations such as tone, pitch, duration, stealth and FF. No, not Fear Factor. Foul Factor. What is its quality, potency and concentration rating in DAGU units. The DAGU system, or Deadly Ass Gas Units of measure, was developed originally in Canada. As with many things in Canada, concepts and talent are imported from all over the world and the DAGU system of measurement is no exception. Masses of people from around the world, whose diet was high in cabbage, flocked to Canada because of a government incentive program which was shielded as a humanitarian effort but, in the end, was merely a cover for the military project it really was.

WTFAP ~ The Weaponized Tactical Fart Assessment Program was initially born out of a need to infiltrate, and disrupt diplomatic gatherings. An operative with a very high DAGU rating, and advanced stealth technique could simply walk up behind a dignitary at an international function, pause to deploy a WTF and move on before the party really got started.

The Mission

The agent paused and softly released his low level WTF behind the Italian dignitary, then moved to a safe distance and vantage point to observe the unfolding events. His mission was to disrupt an olive oil trade deal. The dignitary was speaking to the French ambassador and his wife. The ambassador’s wife picked up on the danger signs long before her husband. She noticed the severe look of consternation on the dignitary’s face as the assault reached his nostrils first, and then his horror as he realized that it was only a matter of moments before it reached his esteemed fellow guests.

His eyes locked with the ambassador’s wife communicating a look of helpless pleading and apology. There was no escape now, and no amount of denial could possibly assist his plea for innocence. He too was a victim of the IEFR. The International Espionage Fart Ring have been releasing operatives and gas with covert, precise attacks for decades.

After the Weaponized Tactical Fart was deployed and it had had a moment to begin permeating the air, the final stage of the operation began. From across the room an absolute bombshell of an agent walked briskly behind the dignitary and flapped her silk shawl just as she passed him. This was the catalyst needed to propel the WTF and create an international incident. The French ambassador’s head snapped back as if hit by a Mike Tyson jab.

Attacks were so severe at times that victims had been known to instantly vomit reflexively, the body’s natural defense to fight off the attack. Their nostrils and lungs filled with weaponized gas, polite gagging ensued. Denials began but satisfaction demanded someone take responsibility. The ambassador’s stony gaze came to rest on the Italian dignitary, who froze like a mouse before an eagle. What could he do other than shake his head rapidly and mutter, no no no no no no no no, that was not me. Not me!

In the communications truck monitoring the operation, things wrapped up. ‘Confirmation: Ambassador and his wife are retreating to safety and seeking medical attention, dignitary is in custody, operation complete people. Weapons safe, meet at the rendezvous point in 60 minutes.’

Innuendo ~ The Hundred Foot Journey

I can neither confirm nor deny my involvement in the IEFR.

That said, 2004 found me walking through Pine Centre Mall in Prince George, British Columbia, Canada. It was the Christmas season and I never get tired of hearing Christmas music over the thin, tinny mall speakers. I truly find it nostalgic and I love it. It’s pretty hard to ruin my Christmas spirit and I was just on my own doing a little shopping like everyone else. Well, like almost everyone else.

Three young men were walking about a hundred feet behind me, and a very lovely girl was walking about thirty feet ahead of me. I was a full time youth pastor at the time, and I can’t really say if I was undercover or not. The three young men walking behind me were commenting loudly on the young lady walking ahead of me. And the comment that resonated with me the most was, ‘Yah tap that for sure, dog pound!!’ to a chorus of hyena like laughter from the boys.

My training kicked in and my weapon systems came online instantly. I had already been feeling unwell and this was just what I needed. Just what the doctor ordered. If you want to really annoy me, speak in vulgar, objectified, sexual terms about a female in front of me. See how that goes for you.

I was wearing my favourite sweatpants. They had natural dispersion characteristics unlike any other material I had ever found. My rage welled up inside me and I released a 10 second stream of gas more deadly than anything I had ever produced in my life. It was perfection. Consistent, dry, and deadly with a DAGU rating never before seen in that part of Canada. As soon as I had crop dusted the mall ahead of the three annoying little pricks with my WTF, I gave my sweatpants a flap just to be sure and veered off hard left and took up a casual position against the wall to observe. I took out my cell phone and pretended to look at a text.

The young males walked into a wall of deadly gas that instantly gagged them and teared them up. A loud chorus of ‘What the fucks!!’ cut through Silent Night as it played softly throughout the mall. They reversed direction immediately, terrified to attempt any further advance. They retreated and the young lady continued on her way in peace and Christmas tranquility.

Merry Christmas,
Bug

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