Hilarious! And very well
My rite of passage came around the time of Jr High School, and our locker room was the crucible of
fire for any boy who hoped to scrabble up the fart chain to become champion.
Our reigning hero had, among other
talents, the ability to rip-on-demand. He could run faster, bench press more cheerleaders and had such sublime
sense of timing that each expiatory report elicited a specifically desired range of response.
The rest of us were
left to merely embarrass ourselves. I did manage to raise my standing once purely by accident when, during a pause
in a particularly boring lecture, I loosed a prize-winning cattle call. Even my girlfriend laughed, and I was the
talk of the hallways between periods.