Chelsea smiled. She was well aware that passing wind was a ridiculous passtime, but it was a fun way to let off some steam. And besides, she enjoyed it. Having the sitting-room all to herself in the evenings was a pleasant consequence of her new hobby, and Charlie –Chelsea’s lumbering old chocolate-Labrador– had no objection. Verily, Charlie was an expert in the field himself. But there was a remarkable downside: the feng-shui.
Bonjour. Ko wai tō ingoa?
Tēnā koe. Je m’appelle Manu. Comment tu t’appelle ?
Ko Bewilderbirdee taku ingoa. Kei te pēhea koe?
Très bien, engari kei te hiamimi ahau, et toi ?
Çe va. Merci.
E hara i te mea he aha. Je ne suis pas fort, engari J’aime manger les chattes, e wāhine mā.
Auē! E hika! Hei te wā titoki e hoa.
Oui, oui. À bientôt. I put my head on backwards to sleep. Kua kore he tangata inaianei. Kei hea tōku wai?
They come in all shapes and sizes. Actually they don’t really; they are all made out of tiffy-taffy and all very much the same. It’s the packaging that varies wildly. Walking down that aisle of the supermarket, it always fills one with superstitious and suspicious awe and wonder. The explosion of colors, patterns, styles. The uplifting mantras of confidence, hope, protection. The miracle of life, the mystery, the wish for a hysterectomy, the .. what the fuck?