Fragrant party

Real gentlemen at the Duchesse's party

Like every Saturday evening, the Duchess is giving a party to the most prestigious people in town. The crème de la crème. There are counts, barons, dukes, heirs to the throne, in traditional garb and regalia. Several men in tuxedos are chatting up women in frilly dresses. Laughter and clinking of glasses can be heard now and then. The waiters seem to be gliding on the marble floor as they're slaloming amongst the guests with their silver trays laden with glasses of champagne. 

On a raised platform, overlooking the majestic ballroom, the pianist is giving one of his best performances, even though his legs are too short to reach the pedals. His nimble fingers are not only teasing the white keys but the black ones as well. He is that good.

The duchess sweeps down the marble staircase of her mansion in her flowing regal dress. Her tiara catches the light and the guests gasp as one man. All conversations suddenly die down and heads turn toward this angelic beauty who seems to be standing on a descending escalator. The men, their champagne forgotten, are trying hard not to drool and the women are smiling with their lips while their eyes are shooting poisoned arrows. 

As the duchess reaches the landing, and the guests fan around her, the unmistakable sound of a humongous fart is heard. The duchess is petrified. She scrapes her shoe on the floor, trying to reproduce a similar sound but you know as well as I do that the sound of a fart is unique. It is no more similar to a shoe scraped on the floor than Beethoven’s fifth is to banging on an upturned pot. The duchess’s eyes search wildly for her butler. He is standing nearby; ramrod straight, his bald pate is gleaming under the bright chandelier. She snaps at him: 

“James, stop that, at once!” To which he calmly replies: 

“Yes Ma’am. Which way did it go?”

The guests pretend they haven’t noticed and, soon,  the Duchess, in her glittering gown and dazzling tiara, is sitting between Count Basie and Duke Ellington. She's daintily holding a slender glass of champagne, her pinky raised. The duke has just told her a limerick of a man from Nantucket and she's laughing out loud. Her diamond earrings catch the light of the enormous chandelier beautifully as she shakes like someone having a seizure. 

Suddenly, and at the very moment the pianist ends his piece with a flourish, the Duchess lets loose a fart that rattles the windows of the ballroom. The Duchess is mortified. She's on the point of passing out when the duke, ever the gentleman, stands up and says:

"I'm terribly sorry. Please forgive me, Duchess. I was a perfect fool to have had beans for dinner, tonight."

And he sits down. The hubbub resumes and one of the waiters opens the windows. The Duchess is relieved in more than one way and silently thanks the duke. 

Five minutes later, another treacherous wind escapes the Duchess as she is rearranging her brassiere. Up jumps the duke again, apologizing profusely. Those in the vicinity surreptitiously edge away, wrinkling their noses, probably thinking they should’ve stayed home. But not long after that, and as things always seem to come in threes, the unfortunate Duchess breaks wind again. As the duke is on the point of standing up, the count puts a hand on his shoulder and says:

"Please, Duke, this one is on me." 

Reviews

[LastMonth]

Hilarious.
First thing first,
is it weird that one of the things I adore most about this is the font? probably.

Either way, great story. A great joke as well. Written well and geniuenly the last bit made me laugh out loud, making me look quite a bit odd to my co-workers. (Whom I believe have no idea that I am not currently doing work on this computer of mine.)

Thank you for the story. I'll probably look through your Writing section, as you seem to be quite the amusing writer.

[Woody]

thank you very much for stopping to read and review, Last month. (what took you so long?) sorry couldn't resist :)
so glad this made you laugh.
I bet your coworkers are playing freecell or chatting on facebook.

[...]

Any time Woody, you're a gas :)

[LastMonth]

Shhh. I say live and let live, I won't pry into what they are doing (Or should be doing) and hopefully they will do the same!

[Woody]

live and let live's a good motto.
hey Lynn, what are you doing in this spot? lost in the corridors of the Cafe, I see.

[Norman 223]

I've only just found this , Woody. Never before have I seen the status of flatus in the upper echelons of society, given such prominence. Your pen has a nobility of its own. It nearly made me wet myself.
Keep 'em coming, Woody. The world needs a few laughs.

Norman

[Winslow Des Totes]

XD Never have a read a more eloquent fart joke! As always your piece made me laugh and smile and I really needed that today; thank you for another great write!

[Woody]

pleasure's all mine, Dear :)
thank you for checking this one out.

[Winslow Des Totes]

I think I will make it a new habit to read your work when I am down. It is very uplifting and fun and has yet to fail at putting a smile on my face :)

[Woody]

I'm flattered and honoured :) I hope I won't disappoint you.

[Will Neill]

Wood, sometimes I have found myself in the same situation, it is easier for me to take the blame because isn't that what is expected if the love of your life drops one in a crowd. The rewards can out weigh the embarrassment (if you know what I mean) but as my mother always said 'its a fool arse that can't rejoice'
Nice one.

[Woody]

Hi Will. good to see you again.
yes I know exactly what you mean. never happened to me though. I would probably say: control yourself, Woman! :)
haha I like the fool arse bit.
thanks a lot for dropping in, Will.

[barleygirl]

There's only one thing I love as much as stories about balls . . . and you certainly delivered in spades this time! What makes your story so delightful is the elevated language & hoity-toity descriptions which you peel off like sheets of gold lame . . . thus, the unwelcome trumpets are all the more contrasting to your carefully crafted scene of high society. This one is truly the height of humid hot fumes, my friend. The only thing missing from your exquisite descriptions would be to spy a ball gown billowing just a tad! *har-de-dar!*

[Woody]

oops! no ball gowns? I wrote this in 2014 and I'm sure it would've turned different had I written it at a more recent date.
thank you for your continuous encouragement and kind words, Dear.

[...]

laughing...................................... what else is there to do but laugh at a fart. Man or flatulence lololol

[Woody]

the more serious the situation is, the funnier they are.
thank you lynn for stopping to brighten my page with your laughter :)

[...]

No sir...??? Well maybe...laughing...psssst, Lynn, back up here hahahaha
I was lost looking for the ballroom and alas I have found my way again lol

[Woody]

hahaha follow the smell :)))

[Stan Lee]

Must've been pretty awesome flatulence for talented noise makers like Duke Ellington and Count Basie to want to own them :) haha

[Woody]

haha you know me. I like to fool around. thanks for dropping in, Dear :)

[Tom]

The Count and the Duke have breeding indeed, donno about the Duchess though...seems more of a windbag to me ???

Another 'cracker' Woody, "Please, Duke, this one is on me."....those last 7 words sold it for me and brought the house down !!!

[Woody]

hahaha a windbag? better than a douchbag, I suppose.
I'm pleased as Punch that it made you laugh Tom. thanks mate.

[Nadia Gerassimenko]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! You are a hoot! I loved how this piece was read as poetry, but at the same time with light humor here and there. It was simply divine and marvelous! (I say holding a teacup full of Earl Gray tea with my pinky up)

With that being said, it also made me think of this:
https://youtu.be/cVikZ8Oe_XA

[Woody]

:)) thanks loads Nadia. so glad this made you laugh.
Amadeus, Amadeus.. Amadeus haha very funny. never seen that one. thanks.

[Nadia Gerassimenko]

An epic party for an epic farty party

[Beccy]

Why is it that men find flatulence so funny. Charlie is only eight, but by some indelibly imprinted genetic programming both he and his little male friends already find it utterly rib tickling, whereas, whenever such things rear their heads, any girls that happen to be around simply wrinkle up their noses and look utterly disgusted. Men, eight or eighty, they never change!

Secretly, though I will never confess to such, (whoops, I think I've let the cat of the bag as it were,) I found this really, really funny.



Beccy.

[Woody]

thank you dear Beccy. you always make my day with your reviews.
I supposed farts are disgusting but, boy, aren't they hilarious!!!
I stayed for a year in Scotland as part of my English studies. when I came back home, the only things I brought back were books, a dart board and a fart bag (if that's what you call it).
we tricked visitors by making them sit on the hidden object. my siblings and I would be rolling on the floor laughing watching the confused/embarrassed look on the person's face.
childish? who cares? :)