Fart Noises

Amy.

My sister, Amy, is getting married in 24 days. In honor of that fact, I am going to blog a bunchload of embarassing (hopefully — eek, if they’re flattering) anecdotes about my seester.

When we were kids, there were two facts:

I made awesome gun noise sound effects.

Amy made shitty ones. Like, really shitty. Actually, farty.

While I ran around in berserker mode, unleashing imagined bullets with epic verbal sound effects, my sister would crouch behind our old, brown recliner and meekly peep out, “pewww.” Pew. Pew-pew. Almost like pee-yew, my gun farted. She even said ‘pew’ as if saying it too loudly or harshly would harm someone. It was emitted as the thinnest wisp of reluctant buckshot replication.

Eventually, I had to change her imagined gun to be a laser rifle. A laser rifle, maybe, in the hands of the most waifish, alien Carmen Sandiego, might make the sound ‘pew’.

And.

I needed someone to shoot imaginary guns with. If Amy couldn’t cut the beefsteak, I’d be a cowboy without his Indian; a cop without his robber. A rambunctious older brother without his trailing little sister.

So.

I went on hurling grenades, and launching missiles while spit flew from my mouth with all my dizzying, splashy audio-

And my sister.

She quit about 3 days later 🙂

 

 

 

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