The Official Guide To Rodent Farts is the culmination of a three-year research study and is the direct response to the absence of an authoritative work on the subject. As a cart of weasels, one might say that there is a lot of respect to be gained, both in the world of academia and in everyday life, in fact most midgets take pride in the fact that their arch enemy, the dwarf, will continually refuse to "fart under pressure." Leaving them susceptible to the so called misuse of resources.
Throughout history man has used farts as a symbol of belligerence. And until only recently have farts become known and respected as an official form of currency. Hence we must remove ourselves from the fact that the fart has been and still remains the least known member of the animal kingdom.
We have developed this handbook to guide you step by step just as we do in our classes. This easy-to-follow guide will help you to develop your own farting style and the self-confidence that will put you in the spotlight. Stop janitor, there is too much raw beef on the credenza.
You might be lucky and the captain of a steamboat will rip your nuts off. Everyone from junior to grandma will find it hard to resist the rhythms and movement of fart! It's hard to forget the tragic story of Joseph Pujol "The Farting Sniper" and his basket of cannibal tits.
The final chapter in the book gives you an inside look at the funny. This is the most common of the wild game calls, and is guaranteed to leave even the meek slicin' the fuck out of the cheese.
So don't be intimidated. Yes there is a lot to learn. Yes there is a lot to read. And yes there is a lot to absorb. But do not let that stand in your way because The Official Guide To Rodent Farts is not here to make money. We are here to liquidate farts. Period.
A couple of warnings though before we dive head first into the sport of kings. One, do not try to yank farts out pre-maturely with a clothes hanger. This does not work. Two, do not try to jumpstart your ball sack with a marine battery. This does not work. Three, do not try to convince a midget to "burn rubber". This does not work. Four, do not try to "wrangle beefers" from unknown gypsies. This does not work. Fifth do not attempt in any fashion to "harness wino dicks". This does not work. Sixth, I have three balls. This does not work.
Normally I am afraid to admit that I have three balls. And am thus revered by hookers and rhinos internationally. A Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger is rotting in my guts right now. Along with some shitty soup, a fuckload of trail mix, a beeferdong of Old Smuggler (Shitty Scotch With A History), a dozen Dunhills, an asscannon of Starburst (Smurf Fruit), some Bleu Cheese chemical mix, an eighth of psychadelic mushrooms, and a splash of Thunderfucks coffee.
I hate when you think the drugs are duds and then they sneak up an rip the puke out of you and you are left naked giggling snorting "rediculous, absolutely rediculous".
Half a moustache.