Blame the dog

I have a story to tell, and it is not for the faint of heart. It involves an old man, bodily functions, and the defiling of an evil leprachaun. Well, change the old man to me and get rid of the leprachaun.

Let me start out by putting this oh so delicately. I was feeling a bit gassy today. Uncontrollably gassy, apparently. At one point, as I was walking around the classroom, I pulled a one cheek sneak. I broke wind. Audibly. Not Wrath of God audibly, but balloon-popping audibly.

When it happened, I glanced at the little girl who was sitting closest, who had a look of shock on her face. Before I could say anything, she exclaimed, "It wasn't me!"

I got away with it! If other kids had noticed, I totally could have blamed that little girl! After all, the universal rule is: she who smelt it, dealt it.

It reminds me of one of my favorite jokes of all time. (Keep in mind that I think "potty humor" is hilarious.)

A young man has been invited to have dinner with his girlfriend's parents for the first time. He is understandably nervous, and his nervousness has made him a bit gassy. About half an hour into dinner, the man is squirming uncomfortably, and a tiny audible fart escapes him. He stares in horror, but the girlfriend's mother, sitting across the table, looks at the family dog who is sitting behind the young man and says, "Spot!"

The young man can't believe his good luck. She blamed the dog! Ten minutes later, when he can't stand the pressure in his abdomen anymore, he's feeling a bit more daring. He lets out a longer and louder fart. Once again, the girlfriend's mother looks at the dog and shouts, "Spot!"

By this time, the young man feels he can do no wrong. The mother will blame the dog, so why not get rid of all his gas? He leans over and lets one rip, long and hard.

The mother looks at the dog one last time with horrified eyes and exclaims, "Spot! Get over here, before he s#!+s on you!!!"


You're welcome, and I apologize.