The Fart Machine

I went to my friend’s 30th birthday party this weekend (big ups MK, thanks for having us). It was a great time and I was reminded of my own 30th birthday party and one magical present that I received three long years ago. 

My wife and my mother conspired to throw me a surprise party at a local brewery/restaurant to celebrate my entrance into another decade of my life. My friends and family attended and we ate, drank, and were merry. The next day I went through all the 30th birthday memorabilia and gag gifts I had obtained the night before and in the mix was The Fart Machine.

The Fart Machine is a wicked piece of technologically advanced prankery. It consists of two pieces: a tiny remote; and a black, paperback book sized speaker. The basic function of the machine is to strategically place the speaker somewhere in a room and then use the remote to blast unsuspecting visitors with glorious fart sounds.

One night my wife and I ordered pizza and while she wasn’t looking I placed the Fart Machine by the front door. When the pizza delivery guy came my wife went to get the door and pay him. As I hid in the kitchen, out of the pizza guy’s view, I used the remote to let loose a barrage of gaseous sounds. My wife was mortified and I was laughing so hard I almost wet my pants. I don’t think we ever ordered from that pizza place again.

A couple weeks later my wife and I went to a bar with some friends. While waiting in line for the bathroom my wife struck up a conversation with a fellow line waiter. She told her the story of her horrible husband and the Fart Machine. My wife’s new acquaintance got a kick out of the tale.

Later that night we were still at the same bar and my wife and I were sitting at a table. A girl walked by us and my wife grabbed her arm, pointed at me and said “He’s the fart machine.” After she spoke the words my wife realized that this was not the same girl that she had befriended while waiting in line for the bathroom. The girl smiled weirdly and ran away. My wife was laughing at her unintentional revenge for my fart machine prank.

I often wonder what the girl must have thought my wife was talking about. Was it some weird pick-up line? Or did she know it was a case of drunken mistaken identity? 

The Fart Machine is now long lost. I sometimes think if I could just find the remote I could press the button and follow the flatulent sounds like a sirens song until I found the machine. But it is better that the Fart Machine is no longer in my possession. It is too great a power for one man to wield.

The moral of this story is: don’t use the Fart Machine for evil because its karmic repercussions are strong.