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I was at the gym last night.
I'm doing crunches, which I
hate, anyway. The only other
person in the room is this
dumpy, fifty-ish woman.
(also, with the crunching)
Out of nowhere, (technically,
not "nowhere" at all, but
her foul, rotten colon,) comes
the windiest, most putrid
fart ever created.
Horrified, I take it as a sign
from God that it's time to
call it a night.
As I'm leaving, The Hottest
Guy Ever comes into the room.
Says I to him, "It was her."
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"Asking a bomb squad if an old bomb is still "real" is not the best thing to do if you want to save it." - denim
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