Never underestimate the power of a fart!

Posted: April 10, 2015 in Humour
Tags: , , , , ,

flood3  I have written before about serendipitous occurrences, both in my life and in the life of others, that were either life-changing or at the very least superbly ironic.

Well, gather round, friends and neighbours. Pull up a stool, a lawn chair, a stump, an old milk crate, whatever you’ve got handy. Sit here, crack open a beer or a pop, relax, and let me tell you a story that is both horrifying and breathtaking in its breadth. It is also a cautionary tale, how we should not take things for granted, and at the same time, be more aware of our surroundings.

Let me tell you how a fart prevented a flood.

Yes, you read it correctly. I know it seems unlikely that this is possible. I know that farts can be powerful things. As a male, we grow up using these gaseous episodes as weapons, honing our skills as time passes until we become ‘Fart Ninjas’. I’m sure there are women out there that can claim the same thing (you know who you are). But surely floods are a more powerful event than a fart. And indeed you would be correct but for ‘serendipity’, that being ‘the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.’ Happy OR beneficial. It sure didn’t start off either, but ended up both.

A little background before the meat of the story would perhaps be helpful at this juncture. Lately, I have been cursed with more gas than normal. More accurately, those around me have been cursed with this tidbit of information. Perhaps it’s age. I may be like an expensive cheese or wine, left to ferment and paying the price. Whatever it is, my wife is not impressed.

And so, I have become friends with one of our sofas. It is quite comfortable, thankfully, although I still prefer my bed. However, last evening I was sentenced to the couch not long after we retired for the evening, after quite innocently (in my opinion) ‘breaking wind’. Evidently this wind was not an ‘Irish Spring’ type of wind, but more of a ‘sewer plant’ wind. My wife falls asleep quickly, and was indeed snoring at this point. But this ‘wind’ was strong enough to wake her up. And in the darkness, there it was….the look. The look is a much more powerful tool than any of the aforementioned ones, and it’s all it took to send me to the living room. Thus I went, sullen and dejected, to our leather sofa, where I could safely lay and puff hither and yon without making anyone choke.

‘What does this have to do with preventing a flood?’ you ask yourselves while eating you pizza. I’m getting there.

As I lay there, my body making sounds even I have never heard before, an even stranger noise could be heard emanating from downstairs (not MY downstairs, as in body, but the basement of my house). Odd indeed. So I mustered the energy to go down and check out just what was happening. And in doing so, discovered that our sump pump had just crapped out (pun sort of intended). Well. Thankfully I had a backup, because it was raining quite heavily outside at this point, and being that the ground was still frozen, the weeping tiles were flooded. IN the 20 minutes it took me to change pumps, the pump pit was brimming with ground water, on the cusp of overflowing. Crisis averted, right? I plug in the backup pump in hopes that it won’t take long to pump out.


Not a ‘good’ nothing either. Dead in the water (pun definitely intended). Panic at this point is making me pass more gas, ironically. Two pumps. No joy.

I would like at this point to briefly thank my father for insisting all those years ago that I attain a healthy electrical background. He told me that no matter what Trade or job I chose in life, electrical knowledge would serve me well.

I was able to take my backup pump out and rewire the switch on it to work, although I had to plug it and unplug it to work. Nevertheless, although it took some time, the weeping tiles were eventually emptied, enough so that I could afford a 45-minute snooze. My wife was kind enough to allow me to sleep in our bed, despite the ‘rumbling from below’. She understood.

And now I have two new pumps, one in action the other awaiting its turn to stave off the waters from our dry basement. And I have informed my wife that I will be eating beans until the wet season passes.


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