Stephen X Carter wrote:
> 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".
I count 11. Take that -- pweeeeeeeeeet!
--
Monsignor Tartarus Sanctus
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