Gas
In the past two days I have started passing gas again. What? I didn't know you'd stopped, I hear you say. Well, let's put it this way. I have started passing gas again without shitting my pants. The fear of shitting my pants remains, but the gas once again escapes from that tortured anus of mine. It has not been this way for almost a month, unless it has been from the safety of the toilet seat.
And they stink worse than the sulphur pits of Hell.
Ah, I hear those fart lovers say, that most surely be glorious, there is rarely a fart of which one's own smell is not in some way delicious if not disgusting.
Not these ones. They make me feel sick. There is NOTHING I can find in them that I enjoy. The reek of cytotoxic poison.
My poor poor wife.
And they stink worse than the sulphur pits of Hell.
Ah, I hear those fart lovers say, that most surely be glorious, there is rarely a fart of which one's own smell is not in some way delicious if not disgusting.
Not these ones. They make me feel sick. There is NOTHING I can find in them that I enjoy. The reek of cytotoxic poison.
My poor poor wife.