This week I have received many comments about my fart story and I’ve had to say it’s only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to stories that somehow involve my colon and a good fart story… Like once during a gynecological exam, but I won’t go into that now (You’re welcome). I realize that my foray into fart stories threatens to lower my intellectual tone and with this in mind I am forging ahead. One story in particular that was clearly the fault of one, who shall not remain nameless, because it was Linda Vanderwerken who introduced me to the nefarious FiberOne bars. Oh ye bar of wonder that doth possess nine, yes 9 grams of fiber and only 140 calories per bar. Linda and I had somehow gotten off on a discussion about pooping (not a stretch for those of you who know me at all or Linda for that matter) and I was looking at a fiber chart to try and figure out a more tasty way to get some extra fiber in my diet without having to eat things like cardboard. Things that would require very little effort on my part (like having to cook or something). “Here, she said, try this. It really tastes good and has lots of fiber.” And knowing Linda like I do, I was suspicious, “Why if it’s so delicious, don’t you eat it? I asked.” She said that she had tried to eat them, but they made her fart like crazy so she stopped at the request of her entire family and a few John Glenn staff members. Well, being a person of experimental bent who is always up for an adventure with a stomach of iron and very impressive sphincter control, I decided to give it a whirl. I said, “Oh it won’t bother me,” and grabbed the Fiber One bar from her hand as I trotted off down the hall. I tried it and she was right, it was quite tasty so, I went to Hy-Vee and bought some in every flavor. I started downing about two a day – nine grams of fiber each – I thought I’d hit the fiber jackpot. About three days into this new routine I was teaching a sixth grade art class. I was writing something on the board when all of a sudden with absolutely no warning at all, just out of nowhere I swear came an air biscuit that sounded kind of like a very loud dying weed eater. (Please forgive my acoustical analysis) There was not a soul in the room who missed it and there was total silence. The kids were transfixed…what was that noise? Did Miss Murphy really just fart? There I stood, still with my back to the class, eyes as big as saucers, like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. This was my defining moment. My reputation hung on what I did next. This had never happened to me, ever. I mean usually there is some warning. You feel it coming on…a little gas pain or something to let you know that you have a fart on deck. Then you let it out as slowly and quietly as you can while disguising it with other noises. I won’t get too into it, but this is why you should always carry an air horn or one of those wooden whistles that mimic the sound of a choochoo train. Trust me…I’m a professional. Anyway, the silence was finally broken by a kid who said, “Geez, Miss Murphy that was a good one.” This comment actually made me feel kind of proud and I could see my way out now. I decided to own it. I turned around and bowed, then I curtsied. The kids started clapping. I curtsied some more, first to the right and then to the left, I did the beauty queen wave and said, “Thank you. Thank you. I’m glad you appreciated it. That was just for you.” More comments were bandied about – “That was impressive Miss Murphy.” “Way to go Miss Murphy.” A star was born.