by BOBA Fart on Sat Jun 19, 1999
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It first started with no-smoking sections. In America, restaurants would ask you "smoking or non-smoking" In France, they would ask "smoking or chain-smoking". Then one day, a British scientist discovered that smelling other people's farts causes health problems. The stage was now set for The No Farting Zone. It became against the law to fart in certain areas of the city. ..........so begins our tale.
Angela and her friend Jill are eating at a nice restaurant, when Angela grabs her stomach in pain.
ANGELA: Ooooo, my stomach!
JILL: What's wrong, Angela?
ANGELA: You know what's wrong. I got enough gas to fill a Good-Year blimp, but I can't let any of it out, because *SOMEBODY* wanted to go to a restaurant in a no-farting zone.
JILL: Hey, this is my favorite place to eat.
ANGELA: We could've gone to Boba Farts Eatery, where a woman can blast-off if she wants to, but Nooooo. Heck, Boba encourages women to fart with those 20 percent discounts he gives to women who fart while giving their orders.
JILL: I like Boba's, but the food their gives me too much gas. I think he puts something in the food.
ANGELA: Well anyway, I got to fart BAD!! I don't care what the law says.
JILL: Please don't, Angela. You'll embarrass both of us.
ANGELA: Oh, how is anyone gonna know? It's not like I'm gonna fart real loud, like that time at Pizza Hut. I'll let it out real soft, no one will know, I promise.
Angela slightly lifts her butt and eases out a soft fart.
BEEP!!! BEEP!!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!!!!
A loud alarm rings out like an air-raid siren. Angela's chair begins to vibrate. Two metal poles rise up from each side of her chair with red flashing lights. A big neon sign comes down from the top with an arrow pointing right above Angela's head that reads "THIS WOMAN JUST FARTED".
Then a feminine computerized voice comes over speakers throughout the restaurant.
SPEAKERS: To the woman sitting in seat 23 B, farting is not permitted in this area. Seat cushion detection devices indicate a .041 rg fart emitted at 5:31 p.m. This will be your only warning.
Angela sat there bright red with her arms crossed shaking her head saying "I hate it when this happens".
JILL: I knew you would embarrass us.
ANGELA: I am so friggin' tired of this stupid no-farting law. Crap!!! I got to fart again.
JILL: Don't you dare, Angela. You'll get arrested, remember Daisy Fuentes at the mall last summer.
ANGELA: I don't care. This law is total BULL!!! I'm not gonna play by their rules anymore.
Angela gets up from her seat and jumps up on top of the table.
JILL: Angela, what in the world are you doing?
ANGELA: Excuse me everyone!!!! Can I have your attention please!!!!
Everyone stops eating and looks up at Angela in unison.
ANGELA: Everyone, I have an anouncement to make......... I have to fart. I have to fart BAD!!! In a moment, I'm gonna bend over and fart in front of everyone here. But, there's this law that says if I do, I go to jail. Am I the only one that sees how wrong this is? What has our society become? Here we all are, stuffing our bellies with food. Yet, at the same time we turn our noses up at the reality of what happens to that food once we swallow. Everyone here is gonna fart the second they get in their cars.
Everyone looks around at each other suspiciously. Angela drops her pants and pulls off what looks to be baggy panties. She holds them up to the crowd.
ANGELA: You see these here. These are designed to cover up both the sound and smell of my farts. I know you've heard about these on the news. Some of you might wear them yourself. People didn't start wearing these until they passed that stupid no-farting law.
Angela pulls out a lighter and holds the panties over it. *FLICK* She holds up the burning panties to the crowd.
ANGELA: Here's what I think of their no-farting law......... BBBBBpppppppppppprrrrrrrrrrrrrrpppPPPPPP
Two weeks later, Angela is standing before a judge.
PROSECUTOR: Your honor, before you make your final verdict, I would like to show the court some video footage, that will prove that Angela is a constant violator of our sacred law.
The court room's video monitor comes up.
Here see is letting out more exhaust than her bike.
BBBBBBrrrrrrrrrrpppppppPPPPPPPPPpppppppppp [Image]
And here she is farting in front of a car full of children. Won't somebody please think of the children.
RRRRRRpppppppBBBBBBBttttttttttttt.......PPPPPpppppppppp
JUDGE: Angela, I find you guilty of farting in a no-fart zone. As punishment, for the next 4 weeks, you must wear a t-shirt that simply reads "I FART A LOT" everywhere you go, everyday except Wednesday, when you will wear an alternate shirt that reads "MY PANTIES STINK". Do you have anything to say?
ANGELA: Yeah, do you permit your wife to fart in bed?
JUDGE: My wife is a law-abiding citizen.
ANGELA: I guess you've never been around her at the ladies country club.
JUDGE: For further insulting this court, you must also do a TV public service announcement on why it's important to not fart in no-fart zones. I understand you're a super model. We can use your popularity to get across our message.
One week later Angela's service announcement airs on national TV. SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Hi, I'm Angela the super model. I'm here to talk to you about how you shouldn't fart in no-fart zones. You can't get away with it, look how easy they caught me. It then shows the video footage of Angela farting. The next day at Coprologist Fart Forum, someone posted "Did anyone see Angela's service announcement?" and explains what it showed. JAG replied "I always miss the good stuff"
THE END...........BOBA FART
by BOBA Fart on Sat Jul 17, 1999
Hello everyone, I'm Jennifer Lopez's Panties. I remember when I first met her. I was hanging around on a rack at J.C. Penny's when an attractive woman purchased me. I was proud of my new master. I was sure that a woman as finger-licking-fine as her would never subject me to the dreaded butt-blast. Back at the panties factory, my brothers and sisters told me horrible stories about what humans do to panties. Jennifer took me home and introduced me to my new room.....her top drawer. There I met a bunch of new friends........her other panties. They were all shy at first. Some look like they had seen some combat. A lot of them were covered in skid-marks, or as we call them, battle scars. As I began to talk with my new friends, they told me what would happen to me when our master would put me on. I was terrified. ........
Then it happened, the drawer opened. Light poured into the room like a flash-flood. All of us were shaking and screaming "Please don't pick me!!" The hands of the Hispanic giant snatched me up like a grape. She stretched me out and slid her creamy smooth legs through me slowly, as if she were pulling a pudding-covered spoon through her starving lips. She wore me into the kitchen. She sat down at the table and I screamed bloody murder when I saw what was on the table. It was a big plate of baked-beans. She eat them up like a fat boy at a pie-eating contest. This was scary!
Of course the real fear didn't come until later, when she was lying on the couch watching TV. When you're a pair of panties, you're real close to a girls stomach. And you can hear every little sound that goes on in there. And every little sound means bad news for you. Her stomach was growling like a pit bull with P.M.S. And who was that stomach growling at........ME! Because I'm the one who gets all of it's wrath. Then I felt Jennifer lean to the side. All of a sudden I heard loud thundering......... BBBBBrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppppppppp.......pop.....pop.....pop I was getting blown by extremely fast winds. AND WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SMELL!!!!!!!! It happened again and again..... BBBrrrrrpppppp...........PPPPPrrrrrrrrtttttttttttttt.........RRRaaaacccc The hot, smelly gas poured through me like a hail of bullets. This went on all through the day, I can't take it anymore. Finally, she slid me off and threw me into the clothes hamper, or as we call it, the panties hospital. There were several other wounded pairs of panties. Everyday a new pair would join us. Finally, we were washed and put back in our room. The washing detergent did a good job of healing my wounds, but nothing will ever heal the emotional scars of being butt-blasted all day long. I can only pray that she never picks me again. LATER............BOBA FART
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