The evening passes by in a haze of fart-fueled laughter and camaraderie. Your parents share stories about their day, and Amy regales you with tales of her own flatulence exploits at school. You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy when she tells you about the time she made her gym teacher pass out from laughing too hard.
As the hours tick by, your stomach begins to hurt. You hadn't realized just how much gas had sustained you until now. "I think I'm dizzy again," you confess to your sister. "I guess I should get some more gas to keep going."
Your words are met with a chuckle from your parents. "Why don't we call Grandma?" your mother suggests. "She always seems to have a never-ending supply of hot air."
The idea of your grandmother farting on you doesn't sound as awful as it once did. In fact, it almost seems... comforting. You nod eagerly, and within moments, the phone is pressed to your mother's ear. There's a brief exchange of words, and then she hangs up with a grin. "She'll be right over!"
A few minutes later, the front door swings open once again, revealing the familiar figure of your grandmother. Her wrinkled face breaks into a toothy grin as she spots you in the living room. "Well, well, well," she says, her voice as raspy as her farts, "look who's growing up so fast!" She waddles over to you, her hands on her ample hips, and leans down to give you a kiss on the cheek. "I hear you've been needing some extra gas, dearie. Well, Grandma's here to help."
With that, she lets out a thunderous fart that knocks you off your feet. You collapse onto the floor, laughing uncontrollably as the putrid odor fills your nostrils. Your grandmother merely chuckles and pats you on the back. "There you go, sweetheart. That should hold you for a while."
Your mother snickers and hands you a plate of beans. "Here, Callum, eat these. They'll help too." You take the plate gratefully, wondering if the meal might somehow be related to the incredible supply of gas your family seems to be able to produce.
As you eat, your grandmother takes a seat next to you and begins to reminisce about her own childhood, regaling you with stories of her own flatulent exploits. She tells you about the time she and her friends used to compete to see who could make the loudest fart in class, and how she once made their gym teacher laugh so hard that he passed out cold. You listen, entranced, feeling a newfound sense of pride and camaraderie with your grandmother as she shares these tales of flatulent derring-do.
The evening wears on, and your stomach begins to Ache again. You look up at your grandmother, who grins knowingly. "I think you're ready for some more, dearie." She waddles over to the couch, her hands on her hips as she positions herself over you. With a sigh of contentment, she lets loose a gust of wind that sends your hair flying and leaves you gasping for breath. The pungent odor fills your nose, but you can't help but feel a sense of warmth and comfort spread through your body.
Your parents laugh, their own bellies swollen with gas, and your sister giggles uncontrollably. "That's my grandma," she says, beaming with pride. "Always ready to lend a helping hand." Your grandmother beams back at her, patting her on the head affectionately.
As the night wears on, the living room takes on a distinctly odorous atmosphere. But somehow, you don't mind. In fact, you find yourself craving more of your grandmother's hot air. You glance at the clock, realizing it's getting late, and you'll have to go to bed soon. "Grandma," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "will you... come with me to bed?"
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