Not Silent, and MORE than Deadly

Last night, my buddy Frankie, who's become so bonded to me, decided to sleep on the floor next to my side of the bed.

As I closed my eyes, visions of soft clouds and calm oceans filled my thoughts.

Sigh.

Cough.... Cough.... COUGH! UGH!

Frankie farted.

Not once, not twice, but three times. All made noise like my grandpa used to make, and all were thick, deadly, noxious gas attacks.

I had to sleep on the couch.

Of course, Frankie followed me out there and slept with me, but at least that room is bigger and not closed off like our bedroom. So there was plenty of space for the gas to dissipate.

I think Frankie is one of the missing WMDs.



Comments

Anonymous said…
Poor little Frankie. Telling the whole cyber world about his bad gas.
I bet you could have taken a lighter to one of those green clouds and warmed your bod.
Please check one of your other email addresses. I sent you some very interesting info. regarding "the other man"
Poor Legs!
8:06 PM
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