The Universe of Gas

The Dainty Ways of a Fart

1876

A rumbling noise tittered within her stomach as Lady Primrose shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Those afternoon scones were quickly sitting improperly within the gentle lady. "Lady Primrose, I pray you are feeling well," said the Maquis of Frankshire. His masculine face radiated under the gentle light shining in from the windows. Lady Primrose bit her lip and responded, "I am, thank you," She swallowed hard as she felt the air moving downward in her body. "If I may excuse myself my lord, I have one last thing to attend to," she spoke.

Lady Primrose did not wait for his response as she hurriedly excused herself from the stuffy drawing room. She walked quickly through the halls of the manor, the bubbly sensation building inside with every step. She eventually reached her private bedroom, her heart starting to sigh in relief. The lady rushed to her chamber pot, lifting her heavily ruffled dress to proceed with her business. She nearly cried out in relief as the air squeaked out. Satisfied with her duty, Lady Primrose strode confidently back toward the drawing room where her crush of Maquis of Frankshire waited.

****

The conversation was light and joyful as Lady Primrose smiled gently at the Maquis. Then, suddenly, the rumbling began again. Lady Primrose stiffened in response, she could not allow herself to be excused again! "The weather..." began the Maquis. Lady Primrose gripped her saucer of her tea cup, forcing herself to appear normal. The rumbling got louder and more apparent but the Maquis kept up the conversation. It continually got worse as he kept talking. "I actually have an engagement to attend to," he said. Lady Primrose raised her eyebrows in hope. "However, I rather spend my time with you. Perhaps if I were to cancel..." He said thoughtfully. Lady Primrose felt both overjoyed and burdened. How did proper ladies endure such situations?

Suddenly, her lower abdomen rebelled, desperate for freedom. She forced a refined smile, "Why, that would be absolutely---" she started before a loud eruption interrupted. The expelled air of said interruption was not at all dainty. Instead, it was boastful and grand. It rustled her petticoats and lace and Lady Primrose felt herself go red. The smell overrode the air, and Lady Primrose watched in horror as the Maquis lamely attempted to sneeze as so he could pull his hankie to his nose."I beg your pardon," he choked, pinching his nose quite fiercely. Lady Primrose gulped as she felt another one coming. It stuttered then freely roamed out from the bum of her dress. The lord forced down a gag, his grip of his hankie quite tight. "I believe that..." he started before another interruption took place. "I must attend my other engagement!" he said hurriedly, jumping from his seat.

Lady Primrose began to insist for him to stay, but the greatest fart had prepared its entrance. She stood from her seat, gently protesting that the lord should stay then...

A wet sound of spit-like qualities filled the room, the smell quite atrocious as it began waging war with the aristocrats' delicate senses. Rotten eggs and old muck was one way to describe it, but the lord did not say a thing as he dashed from the room out of Lady Primrose's grasp. And there, she was left in her smelly aroma, quite in shock in the turn of events as a bird flying past the window of the drawing room suddenly fainted.

****
It was a few years since that unholy moment, and now gentlemen and ladies alike wrinkle their noses in distaste in her presence.

As Lady Primrose's maids undressed her from her breakfast gown, one maid could of sworn that the smell of rotten eggs and old muck drifted in the air....