I have gas so no ride

Mid-City New Orleans: Signage for "Sacred...

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See, I am a considerate person.

Because when you so kindly offered me a ride home, I declined.

Not because I particularly wanted to walk.


It was because I had gas.

That’s why I took my time coming over to your car.

I had to let the air, uh, dissipate a little.

Hopefully, no foul air wafted its way into your open car window.

After all, you don’t look like the type to have a flatulence fetish.

(Um, what would a fart fetishist look like anyway? Huge nostrils and graphic tee of girls farting?)

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I’m surprised you couldn’t hear my stomach gurgling and burgling as I held the next jurassic sized gas bubble building in my tum-tum.

I know you wanted to chat just a wee bit more but I had to go.

‘Cause I keep it classy.

By the way, who knew that there were so many articles about passing gas!

4 comments to I have gas so no ride

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