Internal Farts: A German Phenomenon

You can feel a fart coming. Normally you move to stop or stifle it by clenching your butt closed, and normally the fart goes away, or escapes silently.

There is no escape from a fart in Germany. Its german engineering precludes its failure. It was created to rumble, and no sphincter will stop it. What happens in a German fart, to my best guess, is it just goes the other way, back into the intestine (thus the "internal"). The kicker is that it achieves the same noise it would have had it burst violently from your ass (thus the "fart"). No weenie high pitched squeak, no mid-staff staccato quarter note, but a deep bellow like the noise the Earth would make if it groaned.

As you can imagine, this leads to some awkward moments.

You're standing in a room. It's not small, but there are a lot of people crammed inside. It's quiet except a guy in the front talking about the characteristics of the modern human skull. You're paying attention, but you feel a small rumbling deep in your bowels and a slight buildup of pressure.

No problem, I got this, you think as you clench shut.

Frustratingly, the pressure doesn't dissipate, but moves back inward, making an audible groan. It wasn't too loud though, and nobody seemed to notice. You're back to listening about the bipedal implications of some ancient hominin skull. But then you feel another rumble and another buildup of pressure, this time stronger.

Shouldn't be a problem you think again, as you take the standard preventative measures.

This one's a bit tougher, but you stave it off, sort of. It makes a louder growl as it retreats back inside. Surely someone heard that, you think, hoping that it'll pass as your stomach growling.

You rejoin the lecture, hoping the episode is over, but then you feel a third rumbling. It's magnitude doesn't bode well. You feel some pressure so you clench shut again, but it keeps building up, like the last two fuckers went and recruited some friends or a whole damn army.

It's getting hot in the room. The pressure is still building and you realize your puny sphincter isn't gonna do it so now you've upped your defense and are clenching your cheeks together. Big Bertha is putting up quite a fight though. You shift your weight and cross your arms. You're sweating now and your confidence in containment is starting to slip. The pressure continues to increase.

Hurricane Bertha is now rotating in your anus, category 4, big enough to wipe out some Caribbean island. You're clenching your butt so tight your legs are shaking. The lecture might as well not exist and you're starting to see stars.

She's category 5 now and you can't move, all your energy is laser-beamed to the battle zone. Containment is now a humanitarian effort; you're harboring a ball of gas that could put a hole in the fucking ozone layer. Your vision is fading and you can no longer breathe. You're rapidly approaching the limit of your abilities, the absolute limit beyond which lies a profound sense of helplessness, the defeat of your will and the reality of how utterly powerless you are. You're contemplating your demise when you feel a slight attenuation of your rectal supernova. You stop your thoughts of despair and wait for, yes, the pressure is subsiding. Bertha has given up. You have won. Your vision returns. You stop shaking and the world is beginning to come back into focus, just in time for the most obscene, god-awful groan ever emanated by the human body. It's not a stomach growl, but a muffled detonation. It's not a fart, but a partially anesthetized patient having their guts ripped out. It's an abomination of sound, made all the more loathsome by its alienness.

The fallout isn't nuclear, but psychological, as those present look around in distress for an explanation of the gruesome sound they've just been exposed to and the person who could be so callous as to emit it. They don't quite know what they've heard, but must suspect that it's implications can't be good.

You however can take comfort in the relief you've been granted and the fact that you've saved the room from the worst aspect of the internal fart. As a german invention, the internal fart is undoubtedly the product of a sloshing stomach of sausages, potatoes, sauerkraut and beer emulsified and weaponized by your intestines. Guess which country was the first to use gas as a lethal weapon.

The relief is short lived though. Bertha did not disappear, just spread out to recruit more troops. You got off easy last time. It's best to get outdoors immediately, because Bertha the Black Hole will be back.