skonen_blades

If you toot while asleep and no one’s around
Then all of the smell and all of the sound
Are bottled by fairies that come in the night
Who capture the toots and they seal them up tight

Their fairy sedation makes sure you won’t wake
As flatulent nocturnal gusts they all take
They abscond with the breezes from one’s derriere
And none of you will even know they were there

You’ll be none the wiser. You’ll stir not at all.
They’ll gather their jars and fly off with their haul
And bring them all back to their kingdom of gas
And judge all the vapours from everyone’s ass

They’ll judge them on timbre and mouth feel and whiff
They’ll open each jar. And then listen. And sniff
These toot connoisseurs and sommeliers of scent
Will parse every present from each anal vent

Uniqueness and power. Complexity. Strength.
Severity. Tone. Musicality. Length.
Both decibel volume and volume in weight
Ejection velocity leaving the gate

Airspeed and spiciness. Dampness and reek.
Octaves from basso profundo to squeak
Tangy bouquets couched in turbulent flows
All deeply inhaled by each keen fairy nose

No matter how subtle. No matter how stealthy.
No matter how pungently, deeply unhealthy
No matter the diet and gas composition
No matter the potency of each emission

They’re collated, classified, labeled and filed
They’re judged on their grade and their level and style
And then the best ones of each jarred broken wind
Have a bright ribbon to each of them pinned

Trophies are given. Awards handed out.
The winners retrace their night’s previous route.
Back to the buttholes, each toot fairy flies
They leave for the winners a nice little prize

It might be a dollar or toothpick or toy
A paper clip. Maybe a sweet to enjoy
And then in the morning when sleepers awaken
With zero idea of the farts that were taken

They’ll see a new thing and they’ll sleepily stare
A bedside addition they swear wasn’t there
They’ll quizzically blame it on slow morning thought
Not knowing that it’s an award that they’ve got

So if you awake in the morning and see
Anything out of the ordinary
Just know that your gas passed the toot fairy test
And bask in the knowledge: Your farts are the best.




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It was refreshing in a way, this whole ‘not having to talk’ thing.

The blue Radocephamoeba across from me ‘listened’ patiently to the string of questions embedded in the constant flow of my pheromones and body odor. There were subtleties in our smell that we had no idea were there.

The Radocephamoebas were huge semi-transparent shape-changing tentacled scentograph andromorphs. They were here doing research. They had no outward sensory apparatus of any kind that we could see. They ate by osmosis.

I could still see the feathers and startled eyes of this one’s lunch lurking back in the thickness of his torso.

When they were hungry, ovals would appear on their bodies like liver spots that oozed numbing digestive juices. Food was pressed to one of these ovals, the food absorbed, and the spots would disappear.

Other than that, their bodies, as far as we could tell, were basically giant noses from tip to stern. Every slippery pore was a nostril. The connected cells of their bodies did the rest. Every cell was a small brain. Together, they computed.

The Rads were the most alien aliens we had met yet.

When referring to ‘my’ assigned Rad, I always called him Big Blue because of his brilliant mouthwash colouring and his size. The Rads differed in colour from one to another wildly. They were called Jelly Babies or Jelly Beans in popular slang.

Using several tendrils to rapidly tap answers out on a laptop for me, he answered questions that I didn’t fully realize that I was asking. I had no control over my pheromones and they really held nothing back. I was unintentionally candid and honest in a way that I had never been in real life when Big Blue took deep, silent sniffs of my long, rambling pheromones.

The First Team had thought it was telepathy for three full hours after first contact until a communication apparatus was successfully set up. Oh, how they all laughed. It was famous footage.

One thing the Rads could do was go ‘silent’ and stop smelling. Scientists were fascinated by this and research was underway.

There was only a certain temperament of Rad that volunteered to research the humans. Earth was incredibly ‘noisy’ by way of stink. Every person on the planet was shouting out their true thoughts, unfiltered intentions, hopes and dreams for all the Rads to hear.

Apparently, Big Blue was a talker and loved to listen. His replies to me on the laptop were verbose at any rate.

Now, I call him Big Blue when I’m writing my reports down but he says that I named him something else from the complicated smell reaction I had when I first saw him. He took my name for him from that reaction. He loves it’s honesty and he never gets tired of trying to translate it into English for me.

It goes something like: Holy shit (alarm) that thing is huge I don’t know if I’m up for this it scares me I wonder how my mom (parent twosex breed half) is doing I think I’ll have a late meal (food type) tonight I wonder if Lisa (female twosex opposite poss) still thinks about me OH SHIT am I just standing here staring be professional they think in smell they think in smell they think in smell egg salad.

Each time he types it out it’s a little different but he always colours a bit darker up top with what we now know is mirth.

They’re equally fascinated by our ability to have not only one but five senses to their two senses of touch and smell. They marvel at our ability to deal with the input.

The Rads told us about a far-off race that has over twenty-six senses.

The two-way research traffic has so far been very rewarding. First contacts don’t always go this smoothly.


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