MORE OF BIG JIM’S INVENTIONS
The third and final part of Wonky Jim stories
THE REVERSIBLE FART PANTS.
«A wonderful invention that will save the world from bad smells» enthused Big Jim adding that Little Jim had volunteered to try them.
Daisy wasn’t so keen on her husband using their youngest son as a human guinea pig, but as Big Jim explained he had no more guinea pigs left , they had all disappeared the week before when he was testing his new time machine, though with a bit of luck, they might be back in the future.
That family gahered in the living room for the demonstration. Little Jim had been eating baked beans and brussel sprouts all day in preparation.
Big Jim cleared his throat and began.
«So, you know just how annoying it can be when you are on a bus or on a train, sitting next to someone who releases nasty bottom burps.»
Everyone nodded
«Well posterior gas is now a thing of the past with my new reversible fart pants. Imagine, you are a flatulent teacher for example. Controlling posterior pulsations can be very difficult. You can’t just let rip in front of a whole class … well this new invetion is ideal for you and anyone esle in a standing-up all day public job. And how do they work?, Well just let rip, not only will the pants absorb the smell, but they will send the nasty gas back where it came from, then when you return home at night, you have the joy of getting everything out your system in the comfort of your own home. Of course, there is built in security. Obviously not all the gas will be reabsorbed by your body and so each pair of pants comes equipped with a methane recuperation system, which when you get home, you can empty into the methane generator that I am currently inventing. And now, without further ado, Little Jim, get pumping.»
After a day of beans and brussels, Little Jim had plenty of gas, and he proceeded to pump away. What a relief. He had been holding back for ages. Pump, pump pump – one hearty bottom burp after another, but there was no noise, there was no smell, no beany brusselly veggie odours. What a wonderful invention.
Eventually, as Little Jim carried on pumping, everyone lost interest and drifted away. Wendy went back to he room to carry on counting and bursting her spots. Not So Little Jim went back to his room to work on his own invention – a time travelling guinea pig retrieval system. Daisy went back to the kitchen to start unmashing potatoes for dinner ,whilst Big Jim slumped into his big armchair and had a nap. All the while Litte Jim kept on pumping and pumping and pumping and gradually and slowly but surely, inflating, inflating and inflating. Something was wrong with the pants. The more his bottom burped, the more the pants reversed the burps right back up from where they had come. First it was just like a small jolt as the burps went backwards, but very soon, the burps were belting back like a high speed rain travelling at full speed through a very narrow tunnel.
«Dad» squealed Little JIm. «These pants don’t work.»
«Ridiculous !» mumbled his snoozing dad who then snoozed off again.
«Dad» squealed Little Jim
Dad snored back.
«Heeeeeeelp» screamed little Jim finally, unable to bear the pain of the back burps.
Everyone rushed into the living room. Dad woke up abruptly. They looked in the corner where Little Jim had been standing. There was no sign of him.
«I’m up here,» he croaked feebly. Everyone stared up. Little Jim as so full of gas, that he had floated up to the ceiling like a big helium party balloon.
«Get me down» he pleaded
«Get him down» implored mum, wringing her mash-covered hands and looking helplesly at dad.
«Get him down» screamed Wendy and Not So Little Jim.
Big Jim stared up at Little Jim who was getting ever bigger and bigger.
«Oh my giddy aunt» exclaimed Big Jim «I don’t know what to do, but if he carries on like that, he’s going to explode. We’re just going to have to burst him with a big needle»
Daisy was now even more distraught. She didn’t want her husband bursting her son.
«Get the pants off him» shouted Not So Little Jim «It’s the pants what are sending the farts back. If we can get the pants off, then all the farts will come out and Little Jim will deflate.»
No one had a better idea.
Dad ran to his shed to get a step ladder and a rope.
Onec back in the living room, he set up the ladder, climbed up, and tied the rope round Little Jim’s ankle. He threw the rest of the rie down to the family.
«Hold on tight everyone. When I get the pants off, Little Jim’s going to relase a lot of gas, if you don’t hold him, he’ll go flying round the room .
The family held on to the rope with all their might.
«Ready Little Jim? On the count of three. 1 2 3 … RIIIIIIP
Dad ripped off the pants and Little Jim let rip with the world’s noisiest, smelliest biggest ever fermented beany brussel fart. It smelled worse than a thousand school dinners, worse than a whole ship of sea sick vegetrarians in a storm, worse than ten tons of festering unwashed sports kit, worse than the worst smell in the whole world – burned Brussel sprouts
The whole living room filled with the eveil smell. The air became unbreathable. The family tried to hold on to the rope whilst poor Little Jim, quivered and quacked and shook like a windsock in a hurricane.
«Open the window or we’re all going to die» screamed dad. Daisy and the children let go of the rope and rushed to open to window, sticking the heads out as far as they could to grab in huge lungfuls of fresh, clean air AND, the inevitable happened. As everyone was, gasping and choking for breath, Little Jim was untethered, and free to whizz round and round and round and round the room and out the window – rasping and farting off on full jet power, whizzing, twisting and turnning uncontrollably, disappearing along the garden, over the fence, and out into the bright blue yonder, at the speed of sound across the rootops and then further and further away until he became no more than a small speck on the horizon.
The family could see it all from their house, high up on the hill.
Chez Nick 