Thunderpants-less
Chapter 3: A home is not a home without a fart
Patrick
Allan A. Allan and I gazed lovingly into each other's eyes. I wiped my moist hands on the apron and dabbed the moob sweat that gathered in a well between my nipples. Allan crunched the last bit of his bird seed breakfast and slurped down the soy milk. Watching Allan's large adams apple bob as the liquid passed through his esophagus made me subconsciously gulp. The air was forced to separate to enter my two stomachs but was reunited in my intestines where it was expelled through my asshole in a gust of pleasure.
"I'm off to work my little astronaut", he said while kissing me on the cheek. The soy milk that was caught in his ginger peach fuzz dampened my skin.
I let out a low giggle and whispered, "I love you too, triple A."
Allan grabbed his old leather suitcase that he'd been using at NASA since he was 11-years old and put on a tweed page hat. His hairline had receded in recent years and the furry peninsula above his brow was soon going to become an island. He was self-conscious about it, and few years back tried hair implants. He was allergic to them, and they caused large welts around the follicles and ended up in the hospital. It was only when I told him, that my love for him grew with the uncovering of his large milky forehead that he let the doctors remove the hairs. Once the incisions healed, I always made sure to slide my hands across the smooth, hairless landscape and tell him how beautiful the barrenness of it was.
It's been many years since Allan and I fell in love and moved in together to start our life. I picked up my husband's dishes and washed them in the sink. My polka dot yellow gloves made a squeaking noise as they rubbed against the porcelain, like that air slipping through my moist cheeks. I felt myself sigh. The huff of air passing out of my mouth orifice was a rare sensation. I didn't like it. I forced a small toot to get the taste of expelled air out of my mouth. Allan and I loved each other, but things were becoming stale in the bedroom. I chuckled to myself, enjoying my own pun. I placed the washed dishes in the drying rack beside the sink and glanced out the window. Allan wasn't anywhere to be seen. I went to the closet in the hallway, taking a break after a few steps to catch my breath. I opened the door and moved the old models of the Thunderpants out of the way. A wave of nostalgia washed through me as I sifted through the old forgotten scraps. It smelled like corn as it exited through my soul hole. I pulled out a black box and dragged it to the bedroom. I opened the flaps and pulled out long pieces of plastic and black strapping. I sat down on my rump, using a puff of fart to cushion my delicate cheeks as they embraced the cold floor and got to work.