This is a story about four little girls that went into the woods to sip wine, do their nails, dye their hair and wear kabuki-looking face masks that tone and tighten. These were hard working girls that needed to decompress and engage in some lively adult conversations about politics, economics and women's issues. Well, not really. I guess some of that is true. At least the wine part is true, though I'd substitute the word quaff for sip. This is really a story about four girls and a fart machine.
Yesterday was day 1 of girl's weekend and we kicked it off in our usual style, a little Pinot Grigio and a lot of gossip. We usually spend our first day of any girl's weekend catching up on all the details in each other's lives over some gloriously unhealthy junk food, planning what we are going to do and where we are going to eat dinner. Our hostess Marianne usually puts out food for the deer and we sit on the deck and watch the flora and the fauna while we discuss bosses that cheat on their spouses, husbands that leave their underwear on the floor and children that text too much. But my devious friend Lil' Mare had a plan to shake things up a little.
At around 7:00 PM we were all feeling kind of peckish so we decided that we were ready to go to dinner. We chose a nice local restaurant called the Boat House which sits on this huge lake in the woods. We each went our separate ways to apply war paint and get presentable. As I walked past Lil' Mare, she tugged me by the elbow, shushed me and showed me this little black box in her hand. The way she showed it to me I felt like I was looking at stolen watches inside of some guy's trench coat. "It's a fart machine. Where should I put it?" she whispered. I told her to hide it between the cushions on the inside corner of the sectional in the living room. We always seem to sit in the same spots and that's the where Marianne usually sits. So while Marianne and our other cohort, Ellen were primping, Lil' Mare wedged the machine into the folds of the big overstuffed couch and tucked the remote control into her pocket. Then off we went to dinner.
When we came back from dinner, we put on some music and got into our comfiest pajamas. Then, as predicted, we each took our usual places on the sectional. I sat on the far corner on the swivel rocker section, Mareianne sat on the inside curve of the sectional, right under the faux bear skin throw, Lil' Mare was next to Marianne and Ellen took the other end of the couch. Once we sat down, we got right back to gossiping. Mareianne decided that she was going to look something up on the computer, so she tuned out as the rest of us talked. As she's typing away, rumblings start coming from the couch as the three of us are hold back the laughter and study Marianne's face for a reaction. Nothing. Ppppppfffffftttttt again. Nada. Now the tension and the comedy is building because Marianne is not acknowledging the noise.
Finally Ellen decided to try to draw Marianne into the conversation so that she would take her focus off the computer. Now we start working the remote button, hard. "Do you hear that noise?" Marianne said looking at Lil' Mare with more than a hint of accusation. None of us acknowledged. We allowed a little buffer of silence and went back to the conversation. As soon as the talking got into swing - toot, toot, toot. Again, we pretended to hear nothing. Now Marianne is glaring at Ellen and looking back at Lil' Mare to try to tip her off that she might be needing a gasmask soon. Then Mary Ellen got up and passed the remote to me. As soon as she went into the bathroom I honked that thing with all I had. Now that Marianne knew that Lil Mare was not responsible for the noise she started to think that there was an animal in the couch. She turned off the music and made us sit in silence asking "Did you hear that?" each time we fired it off. She eventually got on all fours on the couch and pointed her head at the corner of the couch like a hunting dog looking for prey. By this time we had ratcheted things up by telling her that sometimes raccoons get into houses in the woods and they nest inside furniture that has a lot of stuffing and have babies. After about 30 minutes of torture and our eventual, uncontrollable laughter, she caught on and got the nerve to feel between the couch cushions for the offending device. Even though she knew there was a machine, she still felt for it very tenuously, as if a her hand might be torn to ribbons by an angry mother raccoon.
Once it was all out in the open, Marianne confessed that she heard the noise all along and thought that it was Lil' Mare up until she went to the bathroom. She told us that she was not acknowledging the noise because she was trying to be polite. The whole time that we thought she was ignoring us Marianne was sitting there mentally cataloging everything that Lil' Mare ate to figure out what had her gut in such an uproar.
We all had such a good laugh thanks to that silly toy. As we plan out day 2 of girl's weekend there have been mentions of taking our gadget the local Walmart. On second thought, in Walmart, who would really notice? Once I go home there are two things that I have to do - buy a fart machine and mail Marianne a vial of Beano as a thank you gift.