Flatulence

I remembered something the other day and it made me laugh.

Remember in elementary school or middle school when someone would "cut one?" It was pretty much the most heinous violation of childhood classroom law. Kids would squeal "Eeeeeeeww!!" and shout accusations:

"Whoever smelt it dealt it!"

Only to be successfully averted with something like: 

"Whoever accused it fused it!" 

Followed by a stinger:

"Whoever denied it supplied it."

Which is practically begging for the effective, yet ironic, "triple-dog-dare" of fart-dom:

"Whoever rhymed it crimed it."

When I was this age, I heartily participated in the battle of comebacks and denial. But I also developed, what I thought to be, a very effective theory.

To solve the mystery of "who really dealt it?" I figured that people should just have a tracking system. Like unto a video game like The Sims, people should just have a small, blue (yes, my vision called specifically for a blue) dot of some sort appear above their heads for each farty offense. Then there would be no issue. Everyone would have their daily number of farts prominently exposed above their heads. They might even become a point of pride: "Yeah, man, I've got 17 dots today. Boo-yeah." And, best of all, we'd never have to wonder who-done-it.

I thought it was a great idea.

Granted, I also thought the song I wrote called "Rockin' in my Socks"* was pretty awesome, too.

*Two verses for your viewing pleasure (slash the only ones I remember):
Rockin' in my socks, it feels kinda keen
Rockin' in my socks, if you know what I mean
Rockin' in my socks


Rockin' in my socks without my dancin' shoes
Rockin' in my socks without my sneakers, too
Rockin' in my socks


(Hey - I listened to the oldies station pretty religiously, okay?)