HOT PANTS

Today The Flaming Bore is scraping the bottom of the blog barrel and writing about the fine art of fart lighting. Now, I personally have no direct experience with this age-old talent, but I have witnessed it accomplished by my younger brother Jon Marshall, also once known as Jonna Marshmallow by his least favorite sister. Hmmm. Who could that be?

His mode of operation was to lie back on one of Mom’s prized rotating living room chairs, when she was not home, of course, spread his legs, strike a match, hold it up to the crotch of his pants, and then bombs away. A flash of fire would blow out into the air, followed by laughter and more matches and more fart lighting until he ran out of gas or matches, whichever came first.

Well, one fine summer day Jon decided to give a command performance, and he was wearing cut-off shorts that were the raggedy-est of the raggedy that came from Mom’s rag bag. You know the kind--lots of rips and long threads hanging down from the leg holes. They were reserved for in-house use only--not out in public, although nowadays they are considered haute fashion and cost around $250.00 a pair.

You have probably already guessed what happened next. While executing his act--over and over and over again--the grand finale was so explosive that Jon set his shorts on fire. He went into panic mode and quickly started slapping at his crotch, putting out the blaze, unharmed, while my younger sister and I gasped and laughed at the same time. The frayed ends of his shorts were charred, but the swivel chair was unscathed and that was all that mattered. We wouldn’t have to fabricate some ridiculous story for Mom to doubt when she got home from work, thank god.

Now, please be aware that The Flaming Bore does not advocate fart lighting as a diversion. I beg my readers: Do not try this at home, or anywhere else for that matter. It is very dangerous. There could be a backdraft that would cause a volcanic eruption from within. It’s also very stupid. Rude, crude, and lewd. But, you know, it sure was hilarious forty years ago watching my smart-aleck little brother’s shorts go up in flames. P.S.--Don’t tell Mom.