intricacies Fart In A Can Worked For Me!
How I Became A Fugitive From Justice
As A Result Of Fart In A Can...

So there I was. Bumming out AGAIN at the thought of Jury Duty. Sometimes I think it would be worth it to give up the privilege of voting to not have to go through this nonsense. But this time, I had a secret weapon: Fart In A Can.
Read on...

<IMG SRC="4farts.gif" WIDTH=199 HEIGHT=71 BORDER=0>
Here's a sample of the "normal" setting, aka "Beef Fart". Here's what I like to call a "button fart" 'cuz it's cute as a button! Here's one set to "Juicy" I turned the the squelch up a bit on this "Juicy" setting, but also added dramatic length with the
"extend-a-blast" feature.
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It was a balmy day. Balmy indeed. I drove my truck down to the courthouse. And wouldn't you know it...I was at the WRONG courthouse. So back into the truck and a 20 minute drive to the "right" courthouse. (Don't they know they're ALL wrong??) Anyway, I got there. I sat for an hour. Why do they say be there promptly when they make you wait an hour? Nevertheless. So I'm waiting. Then, finally, we were "herded" into room 101. guessed it: more waiting. Why did I even come here at all? What are they gonna do, arrest me? Anyway, I'm here. After what seems like an eternity of endless waiting (about 15 minutes) the legal buttheads start filing in. First the bailiff and then the square-headed lawyers. Finally some old blow-hard judge ambles in and we all have to stand. That's when I reached into to my briefcase, set the "Stink-O-Meter" to low, adjusted the audio filter for "medium-sized room", set the "Direct-O-Flow" to "Throw Your Voice", aimed it at the general direction of the judge and let off a quick blast. Naturally, as soon as the life-like sound filled the general area, I too looked around a bit nervously--as did others--so as not to arouse any suspicion. A few nearby co-jurors gave a wince at the unsuspecting judge, and the proceedings proceeded.

Then began the roll-call. Being a "W" has its advantages. In this case, I was last on the list. So the knot-headed court assistant gets to the end of the roll-call and then tells us that she is about to call the first set of twelve people to be "grilled" on the intricacies of the law "as we see it", by randomly picking names from the list. Sheesh. I figured, OK, I'm last on the list, so... someone who picks "at random" would never pick the LAST NAME on the list. That's...that's not random. So, feeling confident I'd be passed over on this "random" selection and home by noon, I relaxed and took a look around at the assortment of cretins gathered here today. Then...all of a name was called. I had to leave my "comfortable" plastic-coated chair and join the clods assembled in the jury box. Not only that, I had to leave my briefcase...AND my Fart In A Can, behind. That's when things got a little scary...BUT...I was prepared. Read on...

So I'm sitting there, number 11 out of twelve. They're going one by one and asking dopey questions like: "Have you ever been arrested?" and "Do you know or are you related to the defendant?" and "Have you ever served as a juror before?" And I thought, man, this is getting tedious. The whole purpose of these questions is to either qualify or weed out the "bad seeds" to arrive at an honest, unbiased set of twelve knuckleheads to try this loser on trial. Now, one woman has a belligerent attitude and they let her go. So I thought, OK, I'll act like an asshole too and they'll tell me to leave. But, I CAN'T act like an asshole (I'm just too nice a guy!) So then I think to myself, I'll tell them I have a problem with authority. That'll do it. But, I'm an awful liar. They'll see right through me and put ME on trial. Meanwhile, they're up to "potential juror #7". I'm gettin' nervous. I DO NOT want to sit here for up to 5 days to pass judgement on this moron who stole someone's food processor, or whatever, so I'm like, think...THINK... then, it hits me!! I realized I have the solution: "POCKET Fart In A Can". Boy, was I lucky I remembered to bring that! Read on...

So they're up to potential juror number 9 now, I'm up against the wall, and I'm thinking, Fart In A Can don't fail me now! I very nonchalantly reach into my inside breast pocket of my leather jacket, set the "Stink-O-Meter" to SBD (silent but deadly), adjust the density/area mode to "Arena", set the "Direct-A-Blame" this time toward the lawyer with the flattest head, and lastly, I set the timer to 30 seconds. I take my hand out of my pocket. I recompose myself. I try to look relaxed and nonplussed. Meanwhile, they've just started to come down hard on potential juror #10 who looks like he's trying to pull off a "I have a problem with authority" scam, and the dweeby lawyers are NOT buying it, the judge is getting annoyed, and I thought, man, that could've been me. So, it's right then that I take a deep breath, and FFFRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT..... It was beautiful!

The thing worked perfectly! I waited a moment, then I adopted the obligatory squinty face followed by the slow look left, slow look right. I noticed others did the same. Meanwhile, thanks to "Pocket Fart In A Can's" patented "Extend-A-Blast" feature, the thing kept on puttin' out. I'll say it again: it was beautiful..magnificent, actually! It wasn't too long before the old blow-hard judge got wind of the situation, he too began to fidget and cough and choke and sputter. I tell ya', it was a sight to behold (and one to be-smell too!!) Finally, the judge had enough. He grabbed that stupid little wooden hammer, bashed it down twice on his over-sized, pompous looking perch of a desk and yelled "COURT ADJOURNED FOR THE DAY!" You should have seen it. It was a mad dash for the door. People were clamoring for air. It was a regular cough-a-thon out in the hallway. Marvelous! They sent everyone one of us home and said we wouldn't need to come back tomorrow because a new batch of goofballs would be there instead.

So, in closing, I can honestly say, just as it says on the can itself:

"Fart In A Can Works For Me!"

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