LACK OF FIREWORK DISPLAYS FORCED THOUSANDS TO LIGHT THEIR FARTS

“I ATE A LOT OF BEANS SO I COULD SHOW MY TRUE PATRIOTISM,” SAYS LOCAL ORGANIZER.

With the pandemic rearing its ugly head, more and more towns cancelled their 4th of July fireworks displays. It was a healthy, responsible thing to do.

But, more and more small towns, like Wynott, South Dakota, found a way to have their own special fireworks display, one that didn’t involve uniting thousands of unmasked and vulnerable attendees or setting off chemical explosions over their heads.

“We formed a group,” says a masked Lem Pitken, local firefighter and visionary. “We called it ‘The Flatulent Freedom Fighters.’ We lit our farts on the City Hall’s roof. It’s the tallest building in town. Everyone in Wynott was able to see it from their front porches or their back lawns. It was one of the most colorful displays we’ve ever had.”

Pitken admits that the show may not have been thrilling as a real fireworks display but it did offer other plusses. “For the first time, the fireworks display did not leave a sulfur odor all over town. It smelled more like baked beans. A ton of baked beans. Everyone ate two hours before nightfall. We were all ready and poised when it came to the lighting ceremony. The crowd inhaled and enjoyed it. I mean, who doesn’t like baked beans?

“And, unlike regular, pre-planned fireworks displays, this one was spontaneous and random, sort of like an improv deal.”

He chuckles. “Let’s be honest. Half of the forty guys on the roof were dead drunk. We all know what a couple of hours of eating beans and guzzling booze can produce when the cigarette lighters are lit. Regular fireworks displays sometimes send burning embers out into the crowds. This one was a little more chunky.”

“EVERY GREAT PRESIDENT HAS FARTED!”

When asked how he came about this idea, Pitken explained. “A group of us felt like we owed it to fart for our country. In these troubling times, why don’t we unite in something truly American? Farting. I can guarantee you that every American hero, every patriot, every great President has farted.”

He smiled a patriotic smile. “To all my fellow citizens. We feel your pain and we farted in your direction.”

A siren blared.

“That’s the ten minute mark,” Pitken said. “We going to have an encore today.” He dropped his mask, grabbed two hot-dogs slathered in sauerkraut and sprinted off. “I intend to give a follow-up display tonight that will go down in the history books!”

As he ran off, the paramedics saluted him.

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