lighting farts

I spent three years at the Manlius Military Academy outside Syracuse, New York, between the ages of 13 and 15. I have kept a journal of those days and thought I'd share this chapter.

Lighting Farts
I don’t know how or when it started. I don’t remember who brought up the idea or why. But sometime, somebody said, "Hey, it’s gas, isn’t it?" We had never thought about it quite in those terms. But, yes, it was gas. And gas burns, doesn’t it? Well, then the discussion was who was going to be first to try it. And how? Zippo lighters were very popular in those days, so lighting would be easy. But how? We decided that it only made sense to bend over, put the lighter up against our asses light the lighter and fart. Just let ‘er rip.

That sounded simple enough. Until someone asked, would we blow up? We gave that some serious thought. I mean it was gas, we agreed. And gas is combustible. Gas blows up. Gas lights the grill. Gas cooks dinner. Will it cook our asses? Or worse yet, would it cook anything attached close to our asses? We thought about this some more. Internal combustion was taking on a whole new meaning. We tossed around these theories, speculations and fears some more until Jim decided enough talk. It was time for action.
"Ok, brave guy, blast off."
"Hell, I’m not afraid. It’s not like I’m a walking gas pump."
"So, light up, man. Take off."
"Ok, I will."
And with that, Jim took Zippo in hand, bent his knees and bent in half until his head was between his legs and his Zippo hand reached up between his legs to his ass. He scrunched up his face and tightened for a fart. Maybe it was the position, but nothing happened. He grunted again.
"Hey, Jim’s gonna shit in his pants."
Everybody laughed, including Jim and that was all it took. A little fart, and a small blue jet escaped from Jim’s ass into the flickering flame of his Zippo.
Everybody laughed and cheered. Jim straightened up, showing no signs of harm from his experiment and announced, "Who’s next?"
It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. A challenge that had to be met by every boy in the room.

Mike said, "OK, my turn." He grabbed the Zippo proffered by Jim, assumed the position and let out a long, loud fart that produced a fine blue jet of flame. Another cheer and the Zippo was passed to the next boy. This time there was no challenge. It was now an unspoken pact. Everybody was going to light a fart. Around the room the Zippo went until it came to Mark. Mark said, "I bet you will get a better blast without the filters." Everybody looked at him not quite understanding what he was suggesting. He didn’t give anybody time to think about it. He dropped his pants, sat on the bed and brought his legs up, reached down and positioned the Zippo at his underpants and let loose with a fart that produced a fine blue flame.
The undressing went no further. Nobody in the room was willing to risk singeing vital parts.
But that day a select group was formed. The others lighted whenever an uninitiated farted in the presence of the Blue Flame Gang a Zippo with knowing grins that spoke louder than the guffaws.