No Strings Attached: Breath

surprised I'm the only one who's thought of it.

So, in the name of science, I have tried an experiment.

Today, after school, I stuffed my mouth with all the disgusting foods I bought and I haven't swallowed - much. I look a bit queer, with my cheeks puffed out like I'm playing a trumpet, but it's for a good cause. I'm helping science. I ought to he famous by this time tomorrow, when I open my mouth again. I can feel the food bubbling and frothing and percolating wonderfully between my teeth. This is going to be the most fantastic smell of my life!

Just think! If the chemists can work out what's in my breath, they can make lots more of it and use it as an insecticide, or a dog-deterrent, or maybe even use it to stop a war. It would be worse than gas-warfare because the soldiers wouldn't be able to die, even if they really wanted to! They would just collapse and lie about until they were carried away. And the bonus would they'd be free of insects.





It is now two days later. I've been feeding my mouth with a steady supply of disgusting things and its brewing well. Every now and then I dribble, because the gas builds up and pushes its way through my lips. The little drops that escape are green, and they steam, and burn holes in furniture. Mum told me to stay outside from now on. I have to sleep in the garden shed. I'm glad its summer.

Dad threatened to scrub my mouth out with the toilet brush but when I tried to tell him not to he got a nose-full of gas and ran out the back door. I had to write him a letter of apology.

But everything will work out soon. The man from the Guinness Book of Records is coming with his camera and other stuff this afternoon, and all my mates from school will be there, and the man from the local chemist shop, and a few others. The idea is for me to stand in a paddock and breath on it, while everyone watches from about a kilometer away. They'll be using binoculars and telescopes because it could be very dangerous. Then, when I've finished, a bunch of experts will check the paddock for dead things, and count them, and measure them to make sure they're really dead and not pretending. It should be great fun.

I was just wondering though, if I might have left the demonstration a bit late. You see, I'm having trouble staying on the ground. My cheeks have puffed up so big with all the foul-smelling gasses, and the bit I've