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Don't Fart in Bed


Guest DaveG

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> This is a story about a couple who had been happily married for years.

>

> The only friction in their marriage was the husband's habit of farting

> loudly every morning when he awoke.

>

> The noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and

> make her gasp for air.

>

> Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it

> was making her sick. He told her he couldn't stop it and that it was

> perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor; she was concerned that

> one day he would blow his guts out.

>

> The years went by and he continued to rip them out!

>

> Then one Thanksgiving morning as she was preparing the turkey for dinner

> and he was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the bowl where she had put

> the turkey innards and neck, gizzard, liver and all the spare parts and a

> malicious thought came to her.

>

> She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep

> and, gently pulling back the bed covers, she pulled back the elastic

> waistband of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his

> shorts.

>

> Some time later she heard her husband waken with his usual trumpeting

> which was followed by a blood curdling scream and the sound of frantic

> footsteps as he ran into the bathroom.

>

> The wife could hardly control herself as she rolled on the floor laughing,

> tears in her eyes! After years of torture she reckoned she had got him

> back pretty good.

>

> About twenty minutes later, her husband came downstairs in his

> bloodstained underpants with a look of horror on his face.

>

> She bit her lip as she asked him what was the matter.

>

> He said, "Honey, you were right." All these years you have warned me and I

> didn't listen to you."

>

> "What do you mean?" asked his wife.

>

> "Well, you always told me that one day I would end up farting my guts out,

> and today it finally happened. But by the grace of God, some Vaseline, and

> these two fingers, I think I got most of them back in."

>

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Ahhh. Another Chihuahua person. Help me gang up on David A. He thinks Chihuahuas are hyperthyroid rats. I thnk we should barrage his mail box with pictures of Chihuahuas.

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Teresa:

Sure got a response out of Michigan. You and I could release our two dogs on David and he would be able to walk for a week because of all the damage these dogs would incur on his ankles.

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O.K. David A., Ry left you in charge....I don't think you are doing your job of watching over Dave G. very well. He let that one slip out so to speak. Pretty crude too I might add...oh well

I must admit, that one had me laughing so hard I had to check my pants. I think I peed em Ha! :lol:

Cheryl

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:cry: I have a confession to make.

I have deceived all of you in a most shameful manner. You see, my friends, Xena (the warrior princess) is my sister's umm....uh....well, okay...her dog. Yep, I am guilty. The little exophthalmic rodent lives in S. Carolina, not in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, where my three cats reside (any one of whom could beat up that sorry excuse for a dog with three paws tied behind its back). I personally think Xena's keeping her distance 3000 miles away for fear that Crystal cat, the sweetest little girl cat in the world, will turn mean, crazed with bewilderment, when she views Xena's bizarrely bulging eyes and the skinny legs that appear to have been borrowed from a parakeet.

So, armed for war though she may be, that rogue offspring of a gerbil and a budgie is not mine, and won't be available for any ankle-biting sessions, unless Dave G gets in touch with Helen in S. Carolina.

But, at least she's ready with head protection in case of war. A hyperthryoid gerbil-parakeet can't be too careful these days.

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