Monday, January 16, 2012

On a Date: A Fart

It had been a robust meal of Osso Bucco and wine. She slouched in my arm chair, her hands across her distended belly. She sighed when I looked at her, and I fell upon her, kissing and groping, and suddenly, she farted. I stood up, shocked.

"Oh, relax, we're all human." She said, yawning and straightening her dress.

And this was a tragedy, for she had been more than human. She was beautiful, with rich hair, an effortless smile, and an incredible, perfect ass... but these jewels of hers had been tainted. Keeping up appearances maintains the mystique which drives continued romance, and for this fact she had no respect. I opened a window.

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