“I am a Knight of the Round Table, and have come to have my future foretold.”

“That will be five pounds.”

“I’m a Knight of the Round Table. Don’t you understand?!”

“Yes, I understand that you sit at a table which has a round shape. Five pounds, please.”

“Alright, here are your five pounds”

“Excellent! Take a seat.”

“May I take this one?”

“Yes… What are you doing picking that seat up?”

“You told me to take a seat, so I am taking a seat.”

“Put that seat down and sit down, you oaf!”

“Alright, alright! No need to get angry, old woman!”

“Old? I’m only 35, you know.”

“Yeah, well I’m 15 so…”

“At any rate, I’m going to read you now.”

“Okay.”

“Hmm… I see… something.”

“What do you see?”

“You… you masturbate… a lot.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I see what I see, young man!”

“Anyway, what can you tell me about my future?”

“Give me a second… I see something else. You will be betrayed.”

“I knew it! It is my second in command, isn’t it? That bastard is going to betray me to the enemy.”

“No… not him… you will be betrayed… by your farts!”

“My farts? How so?”

“While hiding in the bushes, you will fart. The enemy will hear it, and kill you.”

“You must be seeing wrong. I do not fart. [Fart noise.]”

“Oh, what was that noise?”

“A frog… that was a frog.”

“Sure it was. Anyhow, this future can be averted.”

“Averted? How?”

“That will be another five pounds.”

“Listen, old woman, I am on a very important mission.”

“Five pounds!”

“Alright.”

“Thank you.”

“Now will you tell me how to avert this future?”

“Don’t eat beans.”

“Don’t eat beans? That’s it?”

“Yes. It will rob your gut from the fuel it needs to produce farts.”

“Well, then I shall eat cauliflower.”

“Great! And stop masturbating. You’re going to get hairy palms.”

#TheDailyIsotope #AutisticWriters #microfiction #knights #masturbation #farts

“I’ve got a few questions to ask before I make a final diagnosis.”

“Ask away, doctor.”

“What were you doing at the time of the incident?”

“I was exploding planetoid 633 with my team.”

“Was it *all* that you were doing?”

“Yes.”

“Now, now. Don’t be coy with me. After all, I’m a doctor.”

“Oh… well… I was farting up a storm.”

“Disgusting!”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I took your revelation with the professional aplomb of a doctor.”

“Okay.”

“I think I can piece it all together now. As you were farting, your space suit was trying to prevent you from passing out.”

“Now, that’s a bit dramatic.”

“It was venting the noxious fumes…”

“Noxious fumes??”

“…into the atmosphere of the planetoid. That’s when this creature jumped at your rear end, burrowed into your space suit, and attached itself to your ass.”

“That’s plausible. I still object to the term noxious fumes, however.”

“Yes… your report of events confirms my hypothesis.”

“And what’s your hypothesis?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just reacting to the newest musical hit as it was coming on the radio ‘Your Report of Events Confirms My Hypothesis.’ I love this song. As for you, I’ve figured your case out.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. You’re the victim of a farthugger.”

“A what?”

“You know how your colleagues exploring another planetoid ended up with a face full of facehuggers?”

“Yes.”

“Same thing but this one feasts on farts.”

“Am I going to have a chestburster kill me?”

“No. The farthugger lives in symbiosis with its host. You’ll live a long and productive life as a chihuahua.”

#facehugger #farts #microfiction

Bill Munson caused quite a commotion on the 3100 block of Start Street in Baskerville last Saturday when he decided to hold a Fartacue.

“There I was on my porch,” Annie Mitchell, a neighbor of Munson, tells us, “I was chilling after a hard day of work when this smell came over. It was like something that a skunk would have puked up. It smelled so bad that my eyes were tearing up. I turned to my husband, and asked him if it was him. He was offended.”

Unbeknownst to Mitchell, it wasn’t her husband that had farted but her neighbor Bill Munson. He was holding a Fartacue with his friends. He had just let one huge fart out and set it aflame on his fartacue. “Yeah, I had beans for supper, and I was just rearing to let it rip. I did let it rip, and man, the stench!”

Authorities were soon called to the scene with reports of tear gas being used. Fire Chief Maxwell explains, “Someone suspected that tear gas had been used, because a lot of the folks were in tears over the smell. We soon realized however that it was Munson’s fartacue that stank up the place.”

Munson was fined $100 for disturbing the peace with his farts. “Lesson learned. Next time, I’ll hold my Fartacue indoors,” he told us, oblivious to the fire hazard.