And why not? I'm a guy, and for a guy, it really is a sacred rite of passage for us. It's the closest we ever get to giving birth. As dad always said, the bigger and louder your fart is, the more "manly" it is. You want proof? I cite the 1996 movie Jack as a reference, where the "grownup kid" (Robin Williams I think) farts into a tin can and the boys all go throw a lid on it to keep it fresh, pass it around, and then drop a lit match into it to light it on FIRE (the first time I learned this was possible)! Fpoof! That stupid movie taught me many important life lessons I forgot, but that was the takeaway for me: that farts are downright fun. But even despite that fact, I was still getting slack about ripping off in public. If it happened, it happened, what's the big deal? Sheesh! I thought this was a "guy sport"? So I usually tried to "save them" for when I was either pinning my brother, gaming with a friend, or alone.
And so, I was unfortunately alone when the infamous monster fart I named the "Big One" was born (of course I would've preferred it in my brother's face, but no such luck that time). And yes, I named my farts, doesn't everybody? "Big One," "Gigantor," "Uh-oh!"...etc. I was 10 at the time, and one day for some reason saw me crippled with abundant gas, so I decided to have that terminated. I was in the basement when it hit me, either coming in from the yard or going out (I can't remember which) and decided to get it over with right then and there where no one would see and hear, and where the aftermath would be least hazardous to innocent bystanders minutes or even hours later. (Sorry mom if you thought the septic tank was backing up again down there.)
Here's how it went down. The urge came upon me, freezing me in my tracks as they sometimes will. I stopped what I was doing, stood still, and assessed whether I could exercise the demon or if I'd need to run to the bathroom fast. Determining it to be releasable on the spot, I applied force as usual, and... and... ka-BOOM! There it was. This super loud dozy suddenly dislodged and came blaring out all at once! It started in a titanic blast like lower pitch roar, then built speed and went off like a chainsaw, and ground to a slow finish. Brrpfannerrpff! It was a huge fart, perhaps the biggest ever (I'd like to think so). After that I took a breath, straightened up, and sighed a very satisfied sigh of relief. My bloating was gone! Hooray! And to my surprise, though it had been a beast on exit, there was very little bite. This was a de-fanged fart, for there wasn't much of a smell, thank goodness! But I was satisfied enough to make a mental note of the event... which I've obviously thought important enough to cherish all these years.
Even though there wasn't much smell to it, I did close the basement doors on my way out and just walked away whistling. Yes soon after that my mom passed through there on her way out to the backyard, so once again, sorry mom, your oldest son was just experiencing his coming of age and the joy of giving birth all rolled into one!
Anyway, though glad to be rid of it, I was moved to see it go, even though I knew there'd always be more where it came from. And there were, and are, but few have been as awesome. My pants must've fit a little better that day. And as our farting hero "Jack" so well put it before dropping one so bad it made another kid faint when he pealed back the lid: "Out demon spirit!" Maybe I've matured somewhat, but I've outgrown nothing.
Happy New Year!