I’ve been exiled to the couch once again, despite my fervent apologies. Hopefully, the wife will cool off after a night’s sleep and forgive my rude behavior this afternoon. If time and rest don’t do the trick, I’m afraid nothing less than a trip to the jewelry store will salvage the situation.
I’m talking about farting. Like all self-respecting men, I have my gaseous moments. And like any guy who’s been with his significant other for a while, I tend to share those episodes with my blushing bride. I usually reserve the most dangerous outbursts for evening hours, when the two of us are watching TV, or when we’re in bed. Depending on my diet, I’ve also been known to let loose some doozies in broad daylight as well — today, for instance.
Unsurprisingly, Sophia fails to appreciate the fragrant bouquet from my hindquarters. She claims we wouldn’t need to heat the house at night, if only she could abide the stench long enough to soak up the warmth from my “rectal furnace.” Sometimes, as she did this morning, she riles up our puppy with excited baby talk after my emission, telling him: “Who stinks worse than Daddy? Nobody does!”
I usually grin and bear my wife’s insults. Once in a while, like today, I respond. Not with witty repartee though. Nu uh! I await a golden moment and then rip the loudest, smelliest one I can muster, inches from her noggin. That’s what happened this afternoon.
At the time of my ambush, Sophia was in the midst of a conference call. She occasionally works from home and participates in telephonic meetings. While I wouldn’t think of intentionally disrupting her business call, I know she mutes the phone when she’s not talking. Since I didn’t hear her speaking at the moment I positioned my ass above her head, I naturally assumed no one but her would hear the blare from my anal trumpet.
Her horrified expression caused me to re-evaluate my assumption. As Sophia angrily informed me after her call ended, she’d unmuted the phone with the intent of contributing to the discussion shortly before I entered the room. She’d simply been awaiting her chance to get a word in when my unmistakable explosion echoed through the receiver to each and every one of her colleagues. And I didn’t doubt that every participant heard and identified the not-so-subtle noise, since all communication ceased in its wake.
Still, the call eventually would’ve continued with no one the wiser. Nobody could tell that the blast originated from my wife’s handset. As far as the others knew, any one of them could’ve been the culprit. The crime would’ve remained unsolved forever … if I hadn’t compounded my childish behavior with even more infantile conduct, exclaiming loud enough for all to hear: “Sophia!!!”