The fart was room clearing.
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In fact, it was so bad it woke dad up at 4 a.m. IIRC, dad sniffed once, awoke and said, “Who smeared rotten cat food all over the walls three weeks ago and then turned up the heat?”
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I knew the fart was bad on its way out. It kinda burned a little, but it was silent. An SBD, as they say. As you know, I’ve been really sick, and now that I’ve stopped vomiting and having diarrhea, I am left with noxious gas of the epic variety. Multiply your worst gas by mastiff, and add just a hint of St. Bernard.
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I ripped one this morning while outside, and dad said it was gag-worthy even with a stiff wind. He called it “a hot breeze from the rotting-food section of hell’s landfill.” Later, I had a 💩 that mom called “the worst thing I’ve ever smelled in my life.” Apparently it’s “still with her,” and she says she might need to “go walk it off in the perfume section of the drug store.”
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Despite the stench, I’m feeling much, much better. My appetite is back, I’m drinking water, and I’m hitting the bathroom regularly but not too regularly. I’m sleeping a lot, but my stubborn, mischievous side is back.
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I’ve promised not to eat anymore bad stuff when my parents aren’t looking. Not even a tiny bit, and not even when they blink.
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A big thank you to everyone for the kind words. They really meant a lot. Little Z read all your comments to me, and they made me feel better. So, my friends, THANK YOU for your love. ❤️
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And I’m very sorry about the smell. Kind of. 💨 As if you aren’t just a little impressed? 💨
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#heavytales 
