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I’m just a little kid, it was late at night. I was scared of life having awakened from the dream of the dead kid chasing me again. I needed a hug from Mom and a glass of water, nothing else would suffice.

I stumbled forth from my room and crept silently down the hall still shaking from the nightmare, too scared to make a sound. She had no idea I was there.

Sundays meant laundry night. Mom would play around with my brothers and I for a little bit in the evening but at 9:00 that was it. She needed her shows, so off to bed we were chased. Not sure where Dad was, either sucking a cock or working a second job, perhaps both. Sunday night is Mom’s night. Children are sent to bed early to get them ready for their busy week. If we start to fussing, Mom says “The hell with you all, go to bed or die.”

We chose bed but not without discussion. Blessed silence fills the air, Mom can now watch her shows in peace.

Everyone’s asleep when the nightly haunts attack. Jumping up from the fretful sleep, shaking all over, terrified, bathing in sweat, my eyes burn with tears. Slowly my senses adjust to the black nothingness around me. As the dream fades, I realize damn I need to pee.

Out of bed I spring and into the darkness I go. The hallway is void of light and in the distance I see the T.V light flickering, giving a strange dance-like sway to the shadows. The living room is fairly dark. My mother does not appear to know that I am there.

Knowing she hates being startled and she has her back to me, I open my mouth and start to say “Hey ma I’m scared” but the words freeze in my throat.

Something is wrong,

She lifts up her left leg just a little, shakes her hips once then twice, leans down over the ironing board just a touch, bares her teeth than clinches them closing her eyes, Her hips sway just a bit from left to right then…

My bible toting, “The lord is my Shepard don’t you blaspheme around here” mother stepped on the duck and let one fly.

Not just a little mom toot like one would expect. No, it sounded like a firecracker. She fired off a god damn major league, college boy, shit your pants, cant stay in the same room nightmare death blast.

My dear sweet, saint of a mother created a gas bomb that was born deep in her internal organs. It smelled as if she had eaten eggs and a dead cat.

The windows rattled, the furniture moved, the floor was shaking with mad delight. It was like an earthquake. My hair flew back from my head as an evil brown wind blew mightily.

She gave just one tiny giggle, shook her left leg once more and then right back to ironing.

I couldn’t breath. Do I announce my presence?

My thirst is greater now than any time in my life. My mouth is full of ash and I’m basting in her foulness.

Frozen in terror what do I do?

Sneak away in silence? Scream like I’ve been stabbed?

As the room fills with the smell of my tainted mother, I’m standing in the corner timid as a mouse. I just wanted a drink of water and now this? The very room is putrid, still warm and smelling of yesterdays leftovers. If she were to turn and see me what would I do?

Could either one of us recover from this shame? This would surly be one of those pivotal moments in life. My mother just crapped her pants and she’s shaking one leg in delight as if she enjoyed it. Can moms even do that?

I thought only boys farted. My mind recoils in horror. “Run away, run away” my head screams. I turned and fled down the hall in absolute terror. Back down the dark hall like I’m being chased by Beelzebub himself.

Did she see me? Did she hear me? How can I ever face her again? My mother just shit in my face,

I, without drink, without hug, still needing to pee. If she knows that I just witnessed that historic blast then I am doomed. How in Gods great name do we ever face each other again?

As I tear down the hall “No dear god no that did not just happen” I crash through my bedroom door hurtling myself through time and space into the bed that I share with my brother (do kids these days still have to share beds?) sweet relief. My own bed.

I crawl under the covers and wonder what just happened, damn it? What do I do? If I go out there now she will know that I was there. If I don’t go I’m going to pee stain these sheets. Why am I scared? Mom farted, so? What caused this whole fear thing?

I must be dreaming. No mom has ever and I do mean ever in the history of mankind has ever sat on the toilet, thrown up or masturbated in the presence of their child.

Perhaps I should have ducked. Would I have embarrassed her if she knew that I was there?

As these thoughts drift through my shattered brains the door suddenly swings open and there she stands. So she had heard me. She says quietly “Is everything OK in here?”

She didn’t know it was me. I didn’t move, I couldn’t breath. I could see her silhouetted from the hall light lit from behind and I swear she looked as scared as I felt. She watched us closely for a moment then closed the bedroom door and walked away.

Now you have to deal with the fact that your mom, that’s right the sacred vagina that you fell out of, just spread her butt cheeks and shit in your face. She didn’t sneeze, she didn’t puke, she shit right in your “Mommy I need you right now, please just hold me” face.

To be fair if she were required to choose just one son to shit on I feel certain in saying she would have chosen me.

When I woke in the morning I went tentatively to breakfast. Mom looks up, says “Good morning.” I say “Good morning.”

Nothing?

No pending doom? No eminent death? So it was just a dream?

I have never spoken on this to anyone before.

I unburdened myself of this lifelong horror on you.

Enjoy.

My mom farts, so what? So does yours.

You don’t like it? Stay out of the fire pit.

Hi. different ey?  Welcome to now.

Mange Mes Fesses

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