It Wasn't Me!!!! (Who the F@(? Farted????)

You know those stories that make you laugh so hard you think you will bust a gut?  The ones that keep on giving, getting funnier and funnier as time goes by?

The ones that, God forbid you recall while at work, whether alone in your office or surrounded by colleagues at the boardroom table, will make you laugh out loud?

I live for those stories.  They literally make all the crap go away.  You may forget about them for years, but one day you'll be having a particularly tough time and all of a sudden "that funny story" will pop into your head.

A lady I love so much once told me such a story.  It was about eating homemade beans before boarding a train to go halfway across Canada.  She was laughing so hard as she told me the story that she was crying.

Before she was done, I was on the floor in tears.

She told me how she'd boarded the train and settled into her economy class seat.  The train wasn't too full, so she got two seats all to herself.  A disheveled man was seated and snoring across the aisle from her.  A lady was seated and reading behind her.  A few other people were scattered throughout the car, some reading, some sleeping.  The train took off.  All comfy and settled in, she opened her book and started to read.  The main lights in the train car were turned down.

Which is about the time the beans started percolating.  It is about then, far too late, that she realized she shouldn't have had those beans.  She realized this wasn't going to be a "one toot and it's over" kind of night.  Nope.  This train whistle would be wailing its way across Canada tonight.  

When the first cramp hit, she thought about going to the toilet.  She knew she'd likely be walking up and down the aisle all night, heading back and forth to the toilet to 'release a bit of air'.  The thought exhausted her.  She looked around her.  The guy in the seat across the aisle was snoring loudly, mouth open, drool trailing from the side of his mouth.  Up ahead, most everyone seemed to be sleeping soundly, some more restless, but overall she figured it was safe.

Safe to let the tiniest of silent toots go.  Release.  Stop.  Listen.  Sniff.  Wait for it, wait for it ...

Phewwwwwww!  It was bad.  But no comments from the peanut gallery.  Gentle snoring all around.  All clear.

A few minutes later, a bigger cramp.  It worked last time, surely this time would be no different.  She let another silent killer go.  OH MY GOD!  She admitted she feared this one was putrid enough to wake the Devil himself.  But as the fumes settled, no one stirred.

The third one was her undoing.  Motivated by her recent success, she pushed the envelope just a little too far.  She let loose a long silent killer that if bottled might have propelled the train all the way to Toronto.

And that's when arose the gravelly, belligerent voice of the woman seated directly behind her.  "WHO the F@(? farted?"

I admit I'm laughing out loud as I type this story.  Despite the fact that I realize that everybody probably figures I'm the farter (I swear to you I'm not ... remember, I'm easily mortified) and that I don't really have this 'friend'.

Anyhow, by this point, my friend can't help laughing out loud.  She's embarrassed, but also quite unsure about what to do next.  Does she raise her hand, stand up and shout "Yes it's me, I'm the Farter!"

No, she does what any woman in her situation would do.  She improvises with acknowledgement minus admission.  She says "Yeah, it's pretty bad, isn't it?"  She doesn't look back as she says this; she wouldn't be able to keep it together.

The woman in the seat behind her launches into a series of expletives.  My friend is quite shocked; she really hates profanity.  But she still has to fart.  She figures now is as good a time as any; she's already both feet in.  Silent release.  Instant relief.

This is the clincher.  The voice behind her is shouting now, really irate: "For the love of Christ and everything that is sacred what the F@(? did that guy eat?"

Surprised, my friend asks "What guy?"  Still not looking back.  She's laughing too hard.

Gravelly voice:  "The vagrant sitting across from you.  He's been snoring and sh!%%ing himself since he got on the train."

At this point, my friend totally lost it.  She couldn't stop laughing even though it was infuriating the lady behind her even more.  

But she admits she took advantage of this poor sod taking the blame; used it as a license to fart all night long.  The man woke up the next morning with the lady in the back seat glaring mercilessly at him.  He didn't have a clue.

She swears she felt bad for the guy, but insists that she never outright lied.  I guess she's right, and no one was hurt.  The guy never had a clue.  The woman behind her would have been irate no matter who was doing the farting.  There was nothing to be gained by confessing.  It's not like my friend shouted out "It wasn't me!"  

In the end, it probably made for a much better story anyways!

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