On Visiting My Farting Friend

by Xander Floss

I went to visit my farting friend
I don't visit him often just because
But when I walked in I was surprised
at just how neat everything was:

a spotless floor and clutterless rooms.
I guess with a farter you'd expect
a mess, a pollution of order,
yet his flat was far from a wreck.

Oh a stink was plainly in the air
But his futon had not even one stain
And all of his plants were so alive
I thought they must thrive on methane

We drank tea and played Scrabble
and then watched his immaculate telly
And later I departed with a jealous pang
that left the sourest ache in my belly.

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