Continued from yesterday.
It was a few days after getting the whoopie cushion before I could give it the first play. The boys were playing in the den, and Cowgrit was doing something on her computer at her desk in the den. I was in my office quietly opening the plastic package and blowing up the cushion.
I snuck the cushion into the den and placed it in our soft chair in the far corner. I used a thin pillow to conceal the trap. It wasn’t a good set up, but if I could keep Cowgrit misdirected, I might could pull it off.
I went to Cowgrit and whispered I needed to talk to her for a moment. I pulled her over to the other side of the den, past the boys playing on the floor, and in front of the loaded chair. I made sure her back was to the trap, and I urged her to sit down.
She immediately suspected I was up to something sinister. She smiled suspiciously at me, and tried to get away. I grabbed her, laughing, and dropped her down on the soft chair.
Nothing. “Dagnabbit!” I said.
“What in the world,” she laughed. She stood up, turned and looked under the thin pillow. “Oh geez,” she said. I let her walk away, then.
The cushion was flat, but it must have let all the air go slowly from the weight of the pillow on top of it. I took the cushion out of the room and blew it back up. The boys were oblivious to everything but their toys. Cowgrit had gone to the kitchen to make sure she was away from her insane husband.
I set the cushion back down in the chair, but there was no good way to conceal it. I’d never trick one of the boys to sit on it. So I’d have to set it off myself. I sat down.
The cushion gave a beautiful explosion.
Both boys stopped their play and looked at me. Calfgrit7 laughed, “Daddy farted!” Then Calfgrit4 laughed, too.
I sat in the chair for a minute, laughing at myself. When the boys went back to playing, I reset the cushion. I sat down on it again, and again the room was filled with a wonderful explosion of sound.
Both Calves laughed again, but this time Calfgrit7 knew something had to be up with the whole thing. “How are you doing that?” he asked.
I stood up, and showed them both the whoopie cushion. “It’s a balloon,” said Calfgrit4.
I showed them how the cushion worked — I blew it up, placed it on the chair, and sat down again. Both boys shouted with laughter at the sound. CG7 actually fell to the floor laughing so hard, and CG4 copied him.
For the next hour, the two boys used the cushion on every chair in the house. CG7 would blow it up, and they’d take turns sitting on it. They “farted” on both den chairs, all three cushions of the sofa, the four chairs around the kitchen table, my and Cowgrit’s desk chairs, and several places just on the floor.
We tried to get Cowgrit to knowingly sit on the cushion, just one time, but she refused. She’s such a girl.