Weapons of Ass Destruction

Okay, so last week an Unidentified Ingestion Object (UIO) caused me to rip these uncontrollable toots that would make a truck driver blush. I tried my darndest to hold them in because nobody, of course, wants to smell other people's farts even if they don't mind inhaling their own bouquet.

I thought I had succeeded in safeguarding those around me from the olfactory onslaught until I was most emphatically proven wrong in the wee hours of last Saturday morning, when I was awakened from a sound sleep by my beloved fiancé, who was screaming ...

"HOLY SH*T, BABY, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU EAT?!? IT SMELLS LIKE BABY SH*T AND CARROTS!"

Niiiiiiice! [in a Borat voice]

I turned over groggily to look at him. The expression on his face was this indescribable mixture of revulsion, shock, and fear. I felt bad for him, but part of me felt, I confess, gleefully proud of my involuntary noxious emission in a sick sort of way. Here was my sweetie, a decorated ex-Army Ranger, screaming like a drag queen with a broken nail over my lil' ol' girl farts!

Pres. Bush, sir, you should have called me when the pundits first started alleging you hadn't found any weapons of mass destruction. They're all right here, in my hiney ...