The Tale...of the Gazelle...Of FLAMING FLATULENCE

It was 1989...an African Safari Hunt gone wrong...

Chuck breathed in the crisp, fresh morning air. The sun rose over the African Savannah, slowly illuminating the small camp made up of the brave and determined men. A rustling sound broke Chuck's intense concentration on the radiant red-orange rays of the sun and he instinctively readied his gun as he turned. His fear was unnecessary. It was merely Vick,  the second member of the hunting party, emerging from his tent and stretching out the morning pains in his lower back. 

"Day 5, Chuck," He said with a hint of exasperation, "And we still haven't found a single animal"

"I have a good feeling about today," said Chuck, "Today is the day."

"So was yesterday, and the day before that, and before that..." Vick went on and on until he was interrupted by a gruff comment from Johannes, the third and final member of the hunt.

"Morning ladies," he said with distaste, "Ready to kill something for once?"

"That groundhog yesterday didn't count?" asked Vick.

"Well, what was left of it didn't," said Chuck. "You didn't listen to me. I told you not to use the explosive ammunition."

"Well at least I didn't set a tree on fire with an incineration round!" Vick retorted. 

"Chill out, girl scouts," said Johannes cooly, "Let's get started." 

After a few minutes, and with the explosive ammunition carefully unloaded out of Vick's rifle, the trio of hunters set off with their gear, grim faces, and an appetite for something besides Spam again. The golden, flowing Savannah grass flowed gently over their camouflaged legs. In an hour's time, they spotted their first target. A young gazelle grazing in the pasture. As it turned out, it was Johannes's turn to take the shot. The three lay flat on their stomachs on the hillside, with Johannes's shot lined up. He looked through the scope and lined up the gazelle's head with the cross hair. 

"Incineration should do it-"

"Could just use an explosive-"

"Maybe a poisonous round-"

The mutterings of the group became more and more argumentative until Johannes silenced them with the sound of the rifle cracking like a bullwhip. Down the scope, the Gazelle jumped with terror as the bullet sailed over its head. The savannah was now buzzing with activity. Birds fluttered wildly in every direction, trying to escape the hunter's shots that now echoed across the land. 

Still the three men focused on the gazelle in their sites. It bounded this way and that. They fired every type of round. An explosion here, a small plume of flame there, or a cloud of poisonous toxins puffing up at random. The instinct for survival was running wildly through the gazelle's mind. It leaped, dodged, and sprinted for dear life. In it's worry, as a side effect, the gazelles digestive system backfired like Chuck's gun had done so many times, and a small, invisible flatulence whiffed out into the air. At the same time, the incineration round fired from Johannes and the toxin from Vick made contact with its rear. The flatulence, being highly flammable, ignited in a pillar of flame twenty feet high. The poison, its chemical properties changed ever so slightly by the change in temperature,  fused with the blood of  the young gazelle. 

"WOOPEE!" Johannes shouted.

"GOT IT!" Vick bounded with delight. 

"Finally!" Chuck yelled. 

They eagerly raced down the hill to the site of the kill, guns clanking and smoking. Fortunately, they were at least ten yards out when the second flatulence occurred. In a flash, the tall flowing grass erupted into a firestorm. The air was consumed by the flame, and Chuck, Vick, and Johannes were all blown back by the sheer force of the explosive flatulence. As the smoke cleared, the gazelle was seen by all three, standing tall and mighty. Tiny flames flickered around it, giving the appearance of candlelight. The three men were frozen in terror. 

And with one final flatulence, the Gazelle of Flaming Flatulence was propelled across the savannah, to live as a guardian of the African Savannah...forever.

Epilogue:

Vick and Johannes, traumatized forever by the incident in 1989, refuse to speak of the Gazelle. Chuck, who now works as a taxidermy expert, continued his life of hunting, learning his trade by experience. For years, he searched for the Gazelle of Flaming Flatulence, but without success. The legend passed down to his children, who also looked for the Gazelle. They too, were unsuccessful. The only recorded sightings are shaky at best and loosely credible. The search...will continue...