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.

[Terpsichore]

Great fun. Reminds me of that scene with Peter Sellers in the lift in 'Revenge of the pink panther.'

No idea why we find farting so hilarious, but we do, and this was superb, especially that line 'which way did it go.' T

[Woody]

thanks a million Terpsichore. I, too, can't explain it but I still remember moments in my life when an unexpected fart would throw us on the floor and we'd laugh to tears. moments of utter bliss, believe me. why? go figure.
ah Peter Sellers. I. love. that. guy!! I believe Rowan Atkinson is a worthy successor (not as Mr. Been)

[Valentine]

Laughing...you are so funny. I can imagine your dinner table and you making light of all the happenings there. Valentine

[Woody]

:)))) life's too short Kathie. so let's laugh and be merry. I'll let you into a little secret. I'm no Tom Cruise. when I first met my wife, I made her laugh so hard that she said yes immediately.
thank you very much Dear. what a pleasure to make you laugh!

[Valentine]

You buffalowed her didn't you?

[Woody]

ah this is a new expression to me. I blindsided her (?) anyway, swept her off her feet.
I've read somewhere: if you want to win a girl over, make her laugh :)

[Samuel Dickens]

More flatulence.....yay! I love the way you lace this elegant, high-classed drama with fart gas. Excellent work, Woody.

[Woody]

thank you Sam. I know I should be embarrassed but I'm not. farts have always made me laugh. boy, did they ever! thanks again.

[:o]

This story is written from one who should be an author of books. you have a good sense of humor and you are articulate in your wording. great job for writing this.

[Woody]

thanks a lot Lacyboo. kind of you to say so. glad you like it.

[roarke]

hmmm.....One O'Clock Jump? This story was a real gasser man. hahahahaa, High comedy in high style.

[Woody]

thanks a lot Bill. "gasser" 's good haha. just in passing, I wonder if anyone has noticed the pianist :)

[Darkimmortal]

Ah, a lot of people who try to write in the present tense forget that they are doing so and accidentally lapse into the past tense. From what I can see, you only did it once in the line "Those in the vicinity surreptitiously edged away, wrinkling their noses, probably thinking they should’ve stayed home."
That being said, I had to stop reading for a second, because it is really hard to edit something when you are laughing so hard people down the hallway can hear you. I love the way that you described a posh party, full of what I would assume to be snobby people, and then have one of them farting! I almost died! That was so perfectly executed.

Very well done, my sides hurt now. Definitely keep penning!

[Woody]

Boy! much appreciated. I'm gonna have beautiful dreams tonight :)

[Hope]

:) What can I say :P hahaha...the last line was the most hilarious !

[Woody]

thank you so much, Hope. glad you liked it :)

[Hope]

you are most welcome ! :)

[Marie]

Good, of course; your work is always good. But a bit crude. With another writer I wouldn't point that out, but I hold you to a higher standard.

[Woody]

Thanks Marie. But you absolutely have to allow me that. Otherwise I'd feel muzzled.

[Marie]

Heaven forbid I should muzzle you.

[Woody]

my motto is this: Be just that little bit crude but never vulgar.

[Bright Ocean Star]

Oh, My, God! I'm dying! This is hysterical! Thank you, Engluva. too funny for words.....

[Woody]

Thaks heaps Anne. Have you noticed how everybody's so damn serious on this site?

[Marie]

That's becuse most of them are poets, and poets are very serious, sensative people.

[Bright Ocean Star]

Marie, you are absolutely right. However, everyone has the capacity for multi-dimensionality....and laughter is the healing balm that helps us through. Engulva, keep writing, but growth comes with trial of new things...even serious topics are worth your efforts. I bet you will surprise yourself.

[Woody]

Can't argue with that. Although, come to think of it, that makes me a "non poet". ouch!

[Bright Ocean Star]

I didn't say you were a non-poet. I'm sure she didn't mean that either. But you, yourself, indicated that poetry is new to you and you mostly write short stories....but I think you have the heart of a poet. Sometimes, we aren't ready to confront our emotions and it is easier to hide behind comedy and laughter. When you are ready, you'll know it.

[Woody]

My last remark was for Marie, actually as I'd missed your comment but thanks for your confidence, Anne. Hiding behind laughter.. You may have a good point there.

[Marie]

I never meant you were a non-poet. But prose is more your thing.

[Woody]

and you are absolutely right, Marie. you either have it or you don't. simple as that.