It's an ill wind...
I am the king of my castle.
Important, I disburse orders whilst
relaxing on the throne. But there's
a problem. An ominous gurgle,a
'rumble in the jungle'.
Hastily, I speak over the noise.
My subjects are none the wiser.
A thin, high-pitched whistling, like
a metal camping kettle comes
out of the aether .
Only the dog pricks his ears and whiffles.
For now, my minions are unaware
of my bootyological plans for
world domination. Heh heh. A
royal snigger.
Lightning strikes! There's a storm outside.
My timing is perfect, like a herd
of wildebeest crossing a croc
infested river, the sound reaches a
crescendo that no one hears.
A deafening silence ensues. I wait,
patiently for the ensuing mayhem.
As the Brownian motion from my rear
conveys itself everywhere , olfactory
senses overload.
"Dear heart alive, was that you?" Ha.
"Was what me?" I replied. Good. A
question with a question. Another breath,
and screams ensue. A wild, apoplectic
face stares wildly at me, holding her nose.
"Welcome to Jurassic Parp!" I quip.
Smiling, immune to my progeny,
I waft and dole out equal measures
to all in my vicinity. They must learn to
"love the gas."
Shouting and crying, they look for a trench
to hide in, but to no avail. No one
escapes the ethereal aroma,
pungent and merciless.
Take no prisoners!