Sunday, March 6, 2011

This...is Fart Boy



Fart Boy is a ludicrous toy of the sort that TW is constantly getting his hands on: things that make fart noises. He's had whoopie cushions of varying brands, cans with built-in wheezers that you overturn, jars of goo you swirl to get the coveted 'sucking fart' sound, and others I can no longer recall. Fart Boy is a plush toy seated on a bean-bag chair. He used to have a finger on  a string that you pulled (get it? 'Pull my finger!') after which a loud flatulent explosion would sound from beneath his chair.

We were out of town somewhere in Pennsylvania hours from home when the tomfoolery with Fart Boy reached a climax and one thing led to another and next thing you know, they had pulled his finger clean OFF and no more would he sound his happy farting tune. So TW tossed him callously in the trash: cold, lonely, and so far from home.

Fart Boy is pissed.

Fart Boy wants revenge.



Fart Boy has equipped himself with a strap-on usb drive...



If you open it and plug it in, there is only one file on it: an mp3 sound file with a spoken message from Fart Boy. A dire, dire message.



Fart Boy places himself in a padded container because he's crazy; also it will help protect him in his travels...



...a padded container with a message of its own.  Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!



Then Fart Boy has himself placed in a suitable shipping parcel...




Next, Fart Boy contacts his friend Dave Kane. Dave has to help. Fart Boy knows where some of Dave's skeletons are buried. Do not fuck mess with Fart Boy.



Dave accepts the parcel and lunches with his cousin, Dominic, visiting from his law office in London. The name of the font on the package is 'vengeance,' by the way. "It's the little things," says Fart Boy.



Dave knows where Dominic's skeletons are buried, so soon Fart Boy is on his way to Europe.



Hopefully it won't be long before he will be winging his way back to Columbia, MD.  TW will then espy a package sent from a strange law firm in London, be curious, tear it open, only to confront the cheap-ass broken toy he hurled into the trash some 8 months earlier in some nameless town in Pennsylvania he can't even remember. A toy that is now threatening him in a creepy robot voice.

It takes so little to make me happy.    :)



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