Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Baked Beans

One day I met a man and fell in love. When it became apparent that we would marry, I made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans, a food I enjoyed above all others. Some months later, on my birthday, my car broke down on the way home from work. Since I lived in the countryside I called my husband and told him that I would be late because I had to walk home.

On my way, I passed by a small diner and the odor of baked beans was more than I could stand. With miles to walk, I figured that I would walk off any ill effects by the time I reached home, so I stopped at the diner and before I knew it, I had consumed three large orders of baked beans.

All the way home, I made sure that I released all the gas. Upon my arrival, my husband seemed excited to see me and exclaimed delightedly: "Darling I have a surprise for dinner tonight."

He then blindfolded me and led me to my chair at the dinner table.

I took a seat and just as he was about to remove my blindfold, the telephone rang. He made me promise not to touch the blindfold until he returned and went to answer the call. The baked beans I had consumed were still affecting me and the pressure was becoming most unbearable, so while my husband was out of the room I seized the opportunity, shifted my weight to one leg and let one go. It was not only loud, but it smelled like a fertilizer truck running over a skunk in front of a pulpwood mill. I took my napkin from my lap and fanned the air around me vigorously. Then, shifting to the other cheek, I ripped off three more. The stink was worse than cooked cabbage.

Keeping my ears carefully tuned to the conversation in the other room, I went on like this for another few minutes. The pleasure was indescribable.

When eventually the telephone farewells signalled the end of my freedom, I quickly fanned the air a few more times with my napkin, placed it on my lap and folded my hands back on it feeling very relieved and pleased with myself.

My face must have been the picture of innocence when my husband returned, apologizing for taking so long. He asked me if I had peeked through the blindfold, and I assured him I had not.

At this point, he removed the blindfold, revealing twelve dinner guests seated around the table for my surprise birthday dinner party.

4 comments:

art art laid a fart said...

Wednesday, what a dirty trick they pulled on the bean loving lady. This is hilarious, if I were there I've asked someone to pull my right index finger, if you know what I mean.

Sweet-N-Low said...

Something about that word "fart" just makes me laugh everytime. No matter what kind of mood I'm in, all someone has to do is either say the word or pass some gas.

:)

Anonymous said...

Hey, Nutrasweet, how 'bout flatuant. What's that do for you. Btw, had you heard that poem--Gene, Gene, made a machine. Frank, Frank, turned the crank, Joe, Joe,
made it go, Art, Art, blew a phart, and tore the whole thing apart. I hope you love it, 'cause I do.

Anonymous said...

lol nice boxers "i love to fart" haha. you said ur farts smell like skunk? you should nothing but beans and put some skunk stripes in your hair, really stink up the place >;)

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