Super Power

Ever played the ‘if you could have a super power, what would it be?’ game?  Y’know, the power to fly or turn invisible or whatever takes your fancy.  My super power of choice has always been teleportation.  This would include a guarantee I would always teleport successfully (correct location, body not turned inside, internal organs where they should be, etc) and be able to take person/persons and inanimate objects with me.  This way I wouldn’t have to pay for gas, plane fare, rental cars, or animal sitters.  I could go out of town and teleport back to clean out the cat boxes and feed the little darlings.  Pretty nifty super power, eh?

As of this weekend, however, a new power has supplanted (at least temporarily) my tried and true dream of teleportation.

I want to be able to make people fart at will.

MY will.  None of this ‘pull my finger’ stuff.

Now before you dismiss this ability as being worthless to anyone over the age of 10 (or not a drunken frat boy), think about it for a minute.  True, the idea originated because of an unworthy desire to see a particularly pompous acquaintance taken down a few pegs in his own self-esteem, but then the ramifications of this gaseous power began to occur to me.  Imagine what would have happened to, say, Hitler back in the days before he obtained real power, had he been seized with uncontrollable bouts of flatulence whenever he tried to give a public speech?   Would anyone have taken him seriously?   He’d just be known as that farty little gasbag with the doofy mustache instead of one of history’s greatest monsters.  And had George W. let a few wet and juicy ones rip on the campaign trail I seriously doubt we’d have had to put up with him for the last 7 plus years.

Think about it, ladies and gents.  The power to change history without raising a finger.  Or pulling one either.

My super heroine name?

The Fartiste, of course.