My Magical, Lucky Farts Assisted in Soccer Wins
Busted emptying my tank, I needed answers and quick
It was midway through the third match of the season, and my eighth-grade boys’ team was winning 1–0. My heart was pounding.
I was nervous.
We had to win this game as we’d already lost and tied the first two games.
“Let’s go guys pass the ball — quick,” I shouted with all my might.
Then it happened.
I swear I couldn’t avoid it.
It couldn’t be stopped. Like a powerful kick to the top right corner of the net that an opposing goalkeeper has zero chance of stopping.
Pfffffffft
I farted. Not loudly, but I farted.
Caught red assed
I immediately turned around. And three of my substitutes: Adam, Gino, and Andres are staring at me wide-eyed and uncertain about what to say. I’d be caught with my hand in the cookie jar — or my ass crop dusting.
They’re all embarrassed. Embarrassed for me and my blasting ass.
I felt like the Grinch when he was caught by Cindy-Lou Who stealing all the Christmas shit.
