For those of you who may have forgotten the playground taunts of your youth, a wolly-gobbler, is a person who bites fart bubbles in the bath tub (presumably their own, although I would assume any fart bubble would qualify). The reason I bring this up is because there are certain situations in life that require a person to retaliate in a childish, vulgar fashion. Oddly, I ran into just such an occasion only last week when I was at the pool doing my daily swim. I noticed a young woman standing at the edge of the pool, and although she didn't say anything to me, it was clear she intended to share my lane, which is fine, since there are only six of them, and swimmers often have to double or even triple up. I don't
have a problem with this, however there is a certain faction of swimmers whom I think of as the elitist dipshits, and they seem to feel that their workout is much more important than those of anyone else, and as it turned out this little squim was one of them. Unfortunately, I didn't know this at the time, so without breaking my rhythm, I made room for her by taking one side of the lane and leaving the other half for her. However, when I got to the far end of the pool and started back for the return trip, I was surprised to see her barreling down on top of me. I quickly paddled over to the other side of the lane and resumed swimming, thinking that she was doing what I call the loop (and I'm sure the elitists know the proper term for it) which simply means everyone in the lane swims in the same direction in a donut shaped pattern, similar to race cars, oh and incidentally it is usually reserved for times when there are three or more swimmers in a lane. A little unorthodox I thought, but I can adjust. Alas, when I got to the other end, there she was coming at me full force, going the wrong way—again. So, I returned to the original side to again split the lane, thinking that she had realized what I was doing and was making a feeble attempt to play nice. And it seemed she was doing exactly that . . . for the next lap or two, but after that, I'll be a God Damn if she didn't do it yet again. Unbelievable! At that point it had become blatantly obvious that she was just being a twat and trying to chase me out of my own lane so that she could have the whole thing. Well, I'm not one to stand for that horse excrement! By now, the bratty little quince had gone back to her own side of the lane, but I was still greatly irritated and knew it was only a matter of time before she would return to her obnoxious behavior. Now as luck would have it, an amazing intestinal opportunity presented itself just as she approached me, and with precision timing . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . BLÄAAAPFT!! — I kicked loose with a stout blast just as we met halfway across the pool. I'm not sure if she actually heard my flatulence over all that splashing or if she merely tasted it in the water, and honestly I like to think it was a bit of both. What I do know for certain, is that she got out of the pool immediately afterward, so unless it was an unbelievable coincidence, my point had been made. Score one for the old gassy fellow!
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