In Space, No One Can Hear You Fart…

Man, I need to apologize to The Planet. I think I just scorched off a good chunk of the Ozone Layer…mighty hardwood trees will be bending over the Amazon soon, vomiting like a cheerleader after her first blowjob…
I can’t believe that thing came outta my ass.

It rose from my shorts, rose rapidly past my face (I actually heard the moisture on my eyeballs sizzle) and then whooshed up the stairwell like a Romulan Plasma Burst…my wife was talking to me from upstairs, and she disappeared like a duck in a shooting gallery…”Fuck…Dammit! Oh, you nasty bastard!!” “Mommy! You said a Bad Word!” “Shut up honey, and run!”

I ran to the kitchen to escape the fallout, and get some more wine…as I come back up the stairs I hear, muffled from behind the bedroom door, “Spray, dammit! Spray!” I thought I had…oh, ‘spray’…I ran to the bathroom and got the can of ‘Spiced Apple Death Bomb Neutralizer’ and fought the beast until it died, decomposing into an apple scented miasmic cloud, a mere shadow of its former self…

A few minutes later, the wife comes out, a study in righteous vengeance…she grabs my wine and gargles some “to get the taste out of her mouth”…what’s she bitching about? My hair still smells like burnt pussy hair (don’t ask).

She points at me like her finger was a gun barrel…”If I was a man, I’d kick your ass right now…” she hissed, and fluffed off back into the kid’s room…”Daddy stinks, huh Mom…” “Oh shut up!”

I can still hear The Fart, susurrating against my door, trying to find a way in…weakened but not vanquished…Never More!

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