This is the final part (Part 4) of The Indiana Surprise! If you missed the 3rd Part, you can read it HERE.
So, as I was saying at the end of "Part 3, Good or Evil?" The Preacher Man had left and I had just sat down when I sensed the presence of something bad. The odor was awful, an assault to my nostrils. Immediately the room was filled with "UGH!"s and "It wasn't me!"s and "It was him! You can tell by the look on his face!"
Only one thing was for sure and that was the fact that the source of the fowl aroma was across the room from me and my family. It was coming from the corner where my Proud Aunt (a.k.a. "Proud Woman"), Proud Uncle (a.k.a. "Proud Man"), and Young Cousin were sitting. It had to be someone in that corner.
That one thing was for sure + this other one thing. The rancid fragrance kept returning, gaining strength with every blast.
The Young Uncle (who was sitting on the couch with my family, in the "it can't be any of us" zone) blamed the Proud Uncle who blamed it on the dog in the lap of the Proud Aunt. Apparently, he had fed the dog bacon for breakfast. The dog, a beagle/rat terrier mix named Lucy, blamed it on the Proud Aunt who blamed it on the Young Cousin. Who said, "It wasn't me!"
There is something you should probably know about the Young Cousin. She is a liar. She has been ever since she could talk, and the girls in my family learn to talk quickly. Everyone in the family knows this about the Young Cousin, so nobody believes her without consulting the source of whatever information she is reporting.
For example, when the Young Cousin was 4 years of age, she got in a bike riding accident while riding with her Grandpa. Her whole body was all scratched up and she looked a terrible mess. That is what happened in reality. However, if you had seen the Young Cousin at the time and asked her, "Oh! What happened to you!?" She would have told you a tale of riding in the car with her Grandparents and coming to an intersection, when all of the sudden, WHAM! This truck came out of nowhere barreling down the road right through the red-light and T-boned her!
So nobody believes anything she says anymore. We did believe her about the fart thing though.
Since we could find the source of the incessant gassing machine, we decided to try to ignore the stench. This we all soon found to be impossible.
"Alright! Who is doing that?!"
"Who ever it is! Go to the other room!"
"It the Proud Man! Look at his smile! He's doing it." Says the Young Uncle.
"It ain't me, I swear!" Says the Proud Man.
"Well then its the Proud Woman." Says the Young Uncle.
"Look, its not me. If it were me, you'd know it." Says the Proud Woman.
You are probably noticing how none of my immediate family is playing the "Guess the Gasser" game. If you knew Dad, you would understand. Around my dad, farts are NEVER funny, or talked about so loudly.
"Is it you, Young Cousin?" The Proud Aunt asks.
The Young Cousin replies with smiles and giggles.
"It is you!" Says the Proud Aunt!
"Well, she did have some gas yesterday night, but it didn't stink like that." Says my mother.
"Ugh! Young Cousin, that is awful! What did you eat!?" The Proud Aunt asks. The Young Cousin replies with more giggles and the room is bombed once more.
"Gross child! You need to get that out of you! Go to the potty right now!" The Young Cousin just continues her laughter while the warm wind gently slaps our noses.
"Don't you have to go to the bathroom!? Make a poop?!" The Proud Aunt asks, while the Young Cousin just laughs more as her rear blows some butt-kisses.
"Aren't you going to make chocolate pudding?!" Asks the Proud Aunt. "Gotta make a mud-dragon?" She continues. "Come on already! Take those Browns to the Super Bowl!"
We are all laughing now, but the Young Cousin still hasn't produced any mud-dragons, or fudge mountains, or any kind of pie.
Eventually we calm down and get back to watching the football game. When we are stuck by an onslaught of anal air we just cover our noses and try to ignore it.
It doesn't take too long for Dad to forget the smell and notice and comment on what a good dog that is on the Proud Aunt's lap. When he does this she replies with, "You want her?"
After much discussion, interrupted only by the wicked aroma that can only be interpreted as gastro-intestional cries for help, we leave the house with Lucy in tow.
We take the short ride to Grannee's house to pick up Piggy and Baby, and we hop in the van. We get about 20 miles out when can deny it no longer. It was not the Young Cousin who was gassing.
To be trapped in a van with something like that is horrible.
The dog would makes its wind, the toxic fumes would make Brother and I cry out in agony, Dad would roll down the windows, and since we were going very fast, the wind would thump and pound on our ears, and we would would cry out in agony once more. Once we got around 100 miles away and all Dad (who is nose-deaf and never smelled anything) had heard since we left town were things like, "She did it again!", "I can't breathe!", "I'm feeling nauseous." "Please roll down the windows. Ahhh! My Ears!!!!", "I think I'm going to vomit.", "Please! Take it back! I beg you!", "Could you try just cracking the windows?" "Ahhh! My Ears!" "I'm not feeling well.", "This is not a dog!" He burst out and said, "We are taking the dog back!"
Of course he didn't really mean this, he just wanted us to stop complaining. Though he was definitely upset. We expressed to him that we were not at all opposed and he could take the dog back if he wanted to, however if he wants this dog, he can have it. It will stop farting eventually, and we can handle it until it did. Then he whined a bit about, "No, its causing my children to be sick." and, "'Your health is more important than the dog." and all this. I told him that I won't puke, I am nauseous but I can handle it. He can have his dog if he wants it.
He decided that 1) we are too far out to turn back now 2) it would be rude to take the dog back.
We kept the dog, but it got re-named to the only thing we were able to call it after the first hour with it.
Full Name: Stinky MikaVyk Marie #2
P.S. From when we left Indiana to when we got home, Stinky had made 4 mud-puppies.