Fart Magic: The Power is Real

By: Jacob Lewis

Last night, after the girls went upstairs to bed, I took a call from another attorney in my office so we could discuss a pending legal matter. I poured myself a glass of water and sat down at our dining room table, assuming this was a nice quiet time to do some work.

I was wrong. Dead wrong.

First, about 5 minutes into the conversation Juliet quietly trundled downstairs. Without a moment of hesitation, she walked up to the table, grabbed my glass of water, and drank it all. She then began loudly demanding lemonade. Athena followed her downstairs and told her that she couldn’t have lemonade because she already brushed her teeth.

Juliet seemed to accept this and I breathed a sigh of relief. Athena was obviously grown up enough to be able to defuse a situation like this.

I was wrong. Dead wrong.

“You forgot your wand” Athena said and handed Juliet the brown plastic tinker toy she had been using as such. Athena then produced her own wand. As the attorney on the other line continued to outline our case plan, I shuttered to think of what new distracting hell was about to unfold.

Athena and Juliet began loudly chanting magic words and waiving their arms in the air and pointing their wands in my direction. After completing their spell they started laughing because, apparently they had just uttered the magic Latin, Elvish or whatever words that would turn their father into a fart through invoking the mystical arts of fart magic.

I told the attorney I needed a minute because my children were turning me into a fart. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of telling them that they couldn’t turn daddy into a fart and that they needed to go back upstairs. Athena took this comment as me doubting her magical abilities and began attempting her spell again. She must have assumed that her original spell had failed because she had not chanted loud enough or put the wand close enough to my eyes. Juliet took my comment to mean that she should go rooting around in the pantry for snacks. The cacophony of fart magic and food demands soon drowned out the voice of my co-counsel. I made a mental note to find how where I could obtain a bean bag shotgun from the internet.

Excusing myself from the conversation and rescheduled it for tomorrow. I shut off my cell phone and stared daggers at my two children. Athena and Juliet froze. Athena because she knew she had just broken daddy. Juliet only because, being without any real sense of empathy, saw her sister do it and assumed it was part of a game. There was silence between us for a good minute as I tried to psychically link my mind with theirs so they could feel the frustration that was coursing through my veins.

Then, Juliet farted. She looked up and said, “I farted, but that wasn’t me.” Athena responded, “yet it was”. Juliet responded “yes, it was me”.

I smiled, for an instant. In that instant, my daughters knew that they had diffused the situation. There was no way I was going to be able to return to my previous level of anger.

In essence, they had won, through the power…of fart magic.

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