Tuesday, July 22, 2008


One of the teachers I work with is Greg. Greg is a little like myself in that we both didn't get married until we were in our thirties, which means we both sowed a lot of wild oats, and although I cannot speak for Greg, I think he would agree with me when I say that wild oats are tasty, but not very nutritious.

Greg has two children, a second grade girl named Shayna, and a kindergarten boy named CJ. I was at Greg's house guzzlin' a Moosehead, when Greg says, "CJ, show Mr. W. your karate." So CJ gets in a little boy's long stance and starts blocking Greg's punches. I can tell Greg is proud of little CJ. He's a blockin' Daddy's punches left and right and I'm dazzled. I'm complimenting little CJ with remarks like, "Look at him go! That's a karate man! Look at those blocked punches! What a karate man!"

All this time Shayna is just watching and observing, but she gets to thinking, "Hmmm. Why is little CJ gettin' all the attention? I'm special, too. What is it that I, Daddy's Delicate Little Flower, can do to bedazzle Mr. W.? I need the spotlight on me. Think, girl, think!"

I guess it hit her, for about two minutes later she comes into the room and yells, "Mr. W.! Look what I can do!!" She then proceeds to tug at the neck of her blouse with her right hand, pulling the V-neck opening all the way over to her right bicep. She then slips her left hand under her right armpit, and then slams her right elbow down to her right side and makes what is known as an armpit fart. She then proceeds to rip off seven or eight prize winners in a row. I haven't seen anyone do that in years! I am floored, and proceed to lavish praise on Shayna.

"Shayna, I haven't seen or heard an armpit fart in years! Those are some beauties! You are incredible! I haven't done one in years. Wait a minute. Let me try."

I then proceed to barely make an air noise, much less a little ripper, and then I discover that my left hand now stinks, and I am taken aback and embarrassed. Oh, I could've blamed the "dry heat" of New Mexico. I learned armpit farts back in the '50's in a Houston, Texas "summer sauna," fer cryin' out loud, when your armpit was drippin' wet and you could goose it loud enough to be heard across the yard. But I accepted defeat, resigned myself to the accomplishments of a new generation of armpit farters, told her she is a much better armpit farter than I am, and Shayna proudly walked off, but not until she had goosed her armpit a dozen more times, jus' fer show. For Shayna, mission accomplished!

I look over at Greg and say, "I wonder who taught her that?" Greg says, "That's Shayna, my Delicate Little Flower!"

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