Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


Flatulent Foibles

A little over an hour ago, I was sitting in Java, journaling and reading my bible. There were a few truckers several tables away, educating me and the rest of Java's quiet regulars on the per-mile rate a delivery driver should receive as part of his wages. They fit the normal morning Java crowd about as much as I would fit in Iceland. There was also a gentleman whom I saw when I first entered that looked enough like Jesse Rea to make me do a subtle double-take in his direction. Upon confirming that this Tennessean knock-off was not Jesse, I sat at a table that put me facing his back. This seating arrangement was convenient, for it allowed me, in the midst of my ambitious spirituality, to witness this gentleman ever so gently lift the left side of his posterior and not so gently force a wee bit of air from his abundant derrière. Fortunately for him, I'm sure I was the only one to see and hear his flatulent foible, as our mutual educators several tables away had no way of hearing his manly rumbling. I'm also sure I was the only one to see him turn, and in another failure at covertness, check to see if I was doubled over in stomach-wrenching laughter. Fortunately for his pride's sake, I was not. Unfortunately, I'm writing about this for all the world to see :)

posted by Bolo | 10:37 AM
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