A Dinner of Independence and Freedom

Once upon a time there was a girl. She was out to dinner with her husband. For sake of ease, let’s just call him Brad Pitt.

It was a casual, but nice dinner. Casual in the sense there was no need to dress up, but nice in the sense that you really should be on good behavior. Because, when its all said and done, you’ll probably drop at least a Benjamin on the meal and, well, you are out in public surrounded by others spending just as much of their hard earned cash on food and drinks. Therefore, its best to maintain a certain level of decorum that is pleasing to all those around.

So, to recap:
There was this (ridiculously beautiful and charming) girl.
At a nice dinner.
With her husband, Brad Pitt.

The food was delicious.
pierogies2

But something just wasn’t right.

Poised across the table from her loving husband, she leaned across the candle-lit two-top and whispered softly, “Gosh, I really need to fart.”

The look on his face said enough: Brad Pitt was less than pleased. Offended does not even begin to describe his reaction. He was obviously not the least bit understanding of her true level of discomfort. Yet, to avoid ruining the meal, she did what any lady would do: she held it inside. The whole dinner. grouper

It really was a delicious dinner. Amazing short rib pierogies, gumbo, pan seared grouper, and the best craft beers around. But, eventually, it was too much to bear and the girl excused herself to the “Ladies Room” (because she is quite a lady, which was proven by her ability to hold in the ever-expanding-gas in her tight-waisted belly*).

Gracefully, like a ballerina, she made her way across the restaurant, entered the ladies room, and rested herself atop the toilet seat before an arsenal of farts rang through the night.

Bang! Pow! Bang! Bang! It was like the Fourth of July. A celebration of independence! Personal independence! Freedom from the dining room of well-behaved dinner patrons. Freedom from the gas that had built up beyond what should ever be allowed.

And she lived happily ever after.

The end.

* Let’s get real here: she most definitely does not have a tight waist. No one with that amount of gas could possibly have a tight waist.

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2 thoughts on “A Dinner of Independence and Freedom

  1. You are the only person I know who can turn a fart into a fairytale. I suppose that takes a special talent. 😘

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