Dietary Incense

[shanmonster]

And then there was the time I went to visit cynebeah at her parents' place in Cambellton, NB. Her parents were out at their cottage, so we had the house to ourselves.

One fateful day, we got hungry, and decided to rob the larder. After a bit of snorting around, we found a can of beans, so we cooked them up and ate them.

An hour or so later, we realized we were still hungry, so stormed the larder one more time. Prunes? Looks good! So we ate a bunch of prunes.

It was all very innocent. We certainly hadn't considered the ramifications of eating significant portions of prunes and beans in one day.

Not much later, the intestinal distress began, shortly followed by acute olfactory distress. It felt like liquid flames were shooting from our arses. It smelled/tasted of the Devil's underbag. The stench was palpable and had a startling longevity. Our arses and noses were tormented for about three days, and in that time, we fumigated the entire house.

At one point, cynebeah's friend Julie rang the doorbell. We opened the door, and a wall of fug body-slammed Julie. She staggered away from the door, smiled weakly, and said, "Oh, I just came over to say hi. Hi! Gotta go!" And she ran away from the house back to the safety of her car.

Months after the fact, I went back to Campbellton to visit cynebeah. I sat down on the chair I'd claimed on my previous stay, and a turgid cloud of stink swelled up to greet me.

This happened years ago. I wonder if they ever got the smell out?

Comments

Occupation: Foole

[doyce.livejournal.com]

George Carlin did a bit about how foam cushions had changed the fate of farts. Before foam, sofa cushions were stuffed with a material that would not absorb farts. As a consequence, when you farted on the sofa, everybody in the room knew it. With the advent of foam cushions the discovery of a farting incident became the venue of the next person to sit on the sofa.