Thursday, August 30, 2012

The Fartiest Muffin: A Bedtime Story


Last night I came into the living room, where Jeff was feeding S. I picked him up (S., not Jeff--even though he’s lost some new-dad stress weight he’s still got 50 pounds on me) and hugged him.

“He’s been farting,” Jeff said.

“Oh,” I cooed. “Are you the fartiest muffin?”

Thus, the story below was inspired by true events.

[insert Law & Order chung-CHUNG]

"Muffin Fart," by Pirate Cookie Lady.
I am so happy this exists.
Once upon a time there were twelve muffins who lived in a muffin tin. Eleven of the muffins were right as rain, but one little muffin had irritable bowel syndrome.
“Oh my stars,” said the other muffins, who were very pretentious. “Are those your farts or did a cruller just die in here?”

“Leave me alone!” said the Fartiest Muffin defensively. “I have a spastic colon!”

Sometimes humans would come over and peer down at the muffins.

“Something smells good!” they would say, poking at them with their pointy fingers. “Are these just out of the oven?”

“A Dutch oven, maybe!” cracked a bitchy muffin named Gwyneth. All the other muffins laughed. The Fartiest Muffin just farted sadly.

But the next day, the muffins got taken to a bake sale. They were taken out of their tin and placed on a doily. But human after human passed them by. Nobody wanted the day-old muffins. After a few hours, they started getting paranoid.

“If no one buys us, we’ll get thrown away!” cried a pessimistic muffin named Tito. The muffins puffed up their tops and tried to look attractive.

“Move away from us,” they sneered at the Fartiest Muffin. “You’re bad for business.” The Fartiest Muffin farted at them defiantly.

Soon, the end of the day came and no one had bought any muffins. The bake sale was almost over. The muffins were beside themselves with anxiety. But then a little boy wandered over, holding a grimy dollar in his sticky hands.

“It’s our last chance!” the other muffins cried, preening. But the boy was already turning away, and moving towards the cupcakes. Just then, the Fartiest Muffin mustered up all of his courage and let out an audible toot.

The boy glanced over, eyes wide, as if seeing him for the first time. As if in slow-motion, while “Dream Weaver” played in the background, his hand moved through the air and plucked the Fartiest Muffin off of the doily.

“You smell delicious,” the boy said.

“I love you,” whispered the Fartiest Muffin.

That night, the little boy had uncontrollable gas.

And they all lived happily ever after.

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7 comments :

  1. This is literally one of the greatest things I have ever read. I could not stop laughing.

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  2. You DO know who just read this along side me and laughed, right?

    My boy did.

    I know he'll be asking for it tonight.
    No wonder I like you on FB.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I see no reason that story shouldn't be published! Hee hee hee

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  4. 100% better written than Where The Wild Things Are.

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  5. That is a fartastic bedtime story. You should totally publish it. :)

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  6. Love it! Best. Bedtime. Story. Ever.

    ReplyDelete

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