Here's what happened. It was crowded at the neighbourhood supermarket.
I had a few items which I was carrying in a small cart. It wasn't one
of the large shopping baskets full of groceries. Just a small,
handheld cart. I made my way through the mass of smelly humanity to
the express lane. 10 items or less. I had 7 items so it was perfectly
ok for me to check out in that lane. A nasty buck toothed chink was in
front of me and she had way more than 10 items. I politely told her
that she was in the express lane with more than 10 items. She acted as
if I had told her that her face were on fire (which would definately
have been a vast improvement in her case). She refused to move. In
anger, I decided to fart her out of line. No effort was made to
conceal these farts. This was war. Brown war and she was in for it.
Prior to shopping I had eaten at a greasy Indian restaurant and the
combination of curry and poached eggs had left me full of a
sulpherous, sickly sweet gas. I could quite literally fart at will and
that's exactly what I did to the slant eye. I even hiked my leg when I
let one out. She started waving her hand in front of her face and
cried out "he cut gas, go poooo, number 10. No good. No good smell!".
I simply glared at her and said "you want more Hop Sing?". With that,
I blasted out a triple stager. At that point, she could no longer hold
her breath so she left post haste and I smiled as I moved up to my
rightful place in line. That'll teach them. 10 items of less, people!
Stephen X Carter - "Nothing is fart proof".
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