Farting My ABCs: Chapter 1
A long, long time ago (before I had kids!) I wrote a 7000-word story called Farting My ABCs. It is fifteen chapters long, and I’ll release one chapter a day to help carry bored kids all the way through the school holidays.
Warning: This may cause your five year-old to make more fart jokes than ever. Also most kids older than five will find it terribly immature (Louisette certainly did).
A lot of authors (and readers) have been reading books aloud lately, and I decided to do one better. Instead of merely reading this book, I read it to my kids. Instead of filming me, I filmed them. I also selected a variety of real backgrounds (mostly outside) to help all of us remember what trees look like. Zipper showed up some of the time too.
But you’re here for the first Farting My ABCs video, right?
For those who want text, here’s Chapter 1 (or email fellissimo@hotmail.com to get all of it at once):
Spoiler space…
CHAPTER ONE: The Boy Who Talks With His Bum
Oh no. Please, no.
Please tell me the teacher’s not going to make me stand up and introduce myself to everyone. I’ve already done it in maths, history, and science.
So here I am in English, and I can feel my gut bubbling. It’s been bubbling all day. Today is my first day at this school – of course I’m nervous. But right now I think my bum is going to explode. Pow! Just like that.
I wish I could open the lid of my desk and crawl inside.
My feet drag me to the whiteboard (my belly gurgles).
The school year started only two weeks ago, and I can still see the teacher’s name – Mrs White – half rubbed out underneath today’s work. I bet no-one else had to stand up in front of everyone like I’m doing. They all know each other, and I don’t.
“Tell us a bit about yourself,” says Mrs White.
I face the class (my belly groans). A girl is giggling from the back row. I still can’t think of anything to say.
One boy is rolling spitballs. I heard someone call him Jack, so I guess that means I’ve learnt something today: the name of the most annoying kid in school. No matter how many times Dad makes me change schools, there’s always one person who hates me right away. I don’t know why. Maybe my big nose just makes people angry. Or my red hair. Or my freckles. Maybe my freckles spell out a rude word. I don’t know.
By now I should be used to this talking thing (my belly grunts and grumbles). But I’m not. In fact, every class is worse than the one before.
“My name is Fred,” I say.
Jack says, “Drop dead, Fred.”
I wish I could (my belly howls and growls).
“Tell us something you’re good at,” says Mrs White.
There’s really only one thing – one amazing thing – that I can do. Whether I want to or not.
After this whole long day, I can’t hold it in any longer. So I stare right at Jack’s cold green eyes – and fart.
I fart the alphabet. I fart my last three addresses. I fart my name and the fact that I have a dog the size of a horse. (Probably should have said that in one of the classes today. Everyone likes dogs.) I fart like a brass band.
The girls laugh. The boys clap. Jack swallows his spitball. Mrs White opens and closes her mouth. She turns purple.
My gut is more amazing than it’s ever been before. (It’s actually very difficult to fart the alphabet – even if it really sounds a bit like, “Arg! Blurk! Sss!” instead of, “A, B, C.”)
Finally Mrs White gets a breath. A big one. She screams: “Principal’s office! Now!”
I run out the door and down the hall with my red hair falling into my eyes and blinding me. With every step, I fart.
Pfft, pfft, pfft.
Felicity Banks 
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