Last night, while my wife was in a dead sleep laying next to me in bed, I felt something burning in my stomach. I don't know if it was the Budweiser/McDonald's before bedtime, or if it was the Ben & Jerrys Cherry Garcia/Mexican food that I ate earlier that day, but it almost had me doubled over in pain. My wife sleeps real close, and I couldn't help it: I let out the loudest, most explosive fart you can imagine. Well, because she sleeps so close, "to snuggle", it was right on her leg. She sits straight up, screams, and starts looking around the room. I didn't know what to do - I kind of panicked a little, and I told her that there was a burglar in the house. She got all scared and started crying, so I had to keep it up; I don't why I said that, it just came out. So she's crying and looking around the room, I told her to get under the bed, grabbed my Kimber, and told her to stay there until I checked the house. She started crying real quietly, and was telling me to stay inside and lock the door, but I told her that I could handle it. I went to the kitchen and made a bowl of cereal. My stomach was really hurting still, and this only made it worse. Well, after about 10 minutes, she came out of the bedroom and started yelling and hitting me, saying that she could smell my fart, and that I was a total asshole and could have caused a heart problem, blah, blah, blah. I tried to explain it to her, but you know how women get when they're mad. She packed up about a week's worth of clothes and headed over to her sisters. The bad thing is, her sister is kind of cute, and now she's going to think that I'm the bad guy here. I told her that if she cooked more often, maybe I could get on schedule or something, and she started hitting me again. 10 years in November all for nothing.
-------------------- "Being deeply learned and skilled, being well trained and using well spoken words; this is good luck."
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