I save my farts for Mommy

 As Logged By:

Agent West

I have three stinky toots.

Each one carefully saved

In the canister next to my boots

For when I need Mommy to cave.

Is she refusing me beef stew

Or chatting on the phone too much?

Complaining about the tantrum I threw?

There's a surprise waiting in the hutch.



"Stop your tantrum, West," Mommy spouts with a huff.  "You stink and need a bath.  That's final!"

I flail my arms.  I kick my legs.  I splash and scream and splash and wail...

But Mommy still got me clean.  Even the dirt I was hiding behind my ears and between my toes is gone.  Here I sit all spick and span. 

I'm one diabolical baby ready for revenge!

I look over at my boots, but I am thinking of the canister hiding behind them.  Agent Chase's newest invention:  A way to save every single fart at its peak of smelliness.  Not just released.  Not when it's fading.  But when it is perfectly stinky and ripe.


I have three good ones in there.  But where can I put the canister?  Where should I surprise Mommy with a one, two, three stink?

Wait a minute!  What day is it?

Yes...  Yes...  It's date night.  That means Mommy will soon be spending an hour pouring over restaurant menus in her slightly weird (dude, it's totally weird) need to debate where her and Daddy should eat tonight.  And that huge stack of menus is sitting in the hutch.  Right where a canister can diabolically fit out of sight.

I look left and right and up and down.  The coast is clear for this diabolical dude to fool around.

I crawl over to my boots.  I lift the secret door.  Phew!  I can smell my toots from here.

Sneak, shuffle, crawl.

In no time at all I set up the canister inside the hutch's door and set the latch.  As soon as Mommy opens the hutch, she'll trip the wire and poof!

"Excuse me, West," Mommy says just as I scooch out of the way.  "Mommy needs to get in..."


The green vapor of my bottled up toots explodes in Mommy's face, leaving her skin a little green too.

Upcoming Log:  Pulling out Daddy's hair

Previous Log: A nip and a bite 


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