Bee in Dema

Feed it to em all

"Why am I not allowed to fart in public?"
-Barry Bee Benson 2014 👅🍑

Oh bother, things are about heat up for me. And by that I mean, I'm in the "kitchen" and I think I burnt my pinky on some hot sauce boiled in an omelette pan. But the stranger that took me "hostage," went for my idea of making beetroot soup. They said "its the dumbest thing I've ever heard, but I'm out of options," but jokes on them! It's Opposite Day today, meaning, it's the best idea they've ever heard and they have many ideas, in conclusion; they think my ideas are genius and theirs won't even come close to beating mine. I have no idea what their name is, but I thought that "fartmouth" was a very carefully thought out, meaningful name. I like it. But of course I do, cause i came up with it and I always have incredible ideas.

I dive into work, carefully chopping up the poop crust I dusted off of my butthole, carefully spicing it with an assortment of my nose hair and my armpit salt. I reach over to my butthole, shoving my hand in with authority, I feel around and I feel the tip of the beetroot, my finger pinches it and I pull it close enough to me so I can grab it, I pull my hand out forcibly, while still maintaining my posture and asserting dominance. I glance over at fartmouth who's cautiously looking at me. We're doing this all in the narrow dark hallway.

What am I making the soup in? The fedora I just pulled out of my butthole. And the rest is just improv  at this point. I start chopping up the beetroot into little circle shapes, laughing at every one I sculpt, delicately dropping it into the fedora.

"What's so funny"

I hear

"Oh just cause a circle is like a hole and a hole is like a-"

"Okay"

I get cut off.... Barry doesn't get cut off.... most of the things I say are way too important to get cut off mid sentence. Oh well, they're probably just annoyed that I came up with such a genius idea and they didn't.

Once I was done perfecting the flavor, I start spitting into the hat like a maniac bird slurping weed from a straw. I start twerking while dancing around the hat while spitting like crazy, almost like a cult ritual to summon zombie parrots to do their dirty mafia business.

When I start running out of spit, I unzip my yellow, black, leather, Prada pants and start peeing. It's like a hose, spraying in all directions. Non stop. After about 15 minutes I zip my pants back up and toss my  pener back in my Superman undies.

Once everything is set up and everything is spiced to absolute perfection I start-

"How are you gonna heat it up?"

I smirk

I place the hat on my butt and just let it rip. I've been waiting all day. It sounded like a constipated  motorcycle on crack, drinking iced tea while pooping. Sometimes the fart pattern jerked up or down, faster or slower, softer or louder, but after about 20 minutes I start to hear and feel the soup boiling above my butt. It tingles.

I stir the soup around with my tongue and scoop some up with my hands. I gently sip at the soup. I smile with satisfaction, when suddenly I gasp! Of course it was missing something!!! I plug one of my nostrils with my middle finger and start blowing air through the other, once a booger shoots out like a peanut in a popcorn factory I know I've done it, yet again.

It's time.

To be continued

Hey guys, noovyyy here, I can't believe I actually just updated?? Anyway, I kind of choked while writing this chapter cause????
I hope you like it though. :)