A nice “touch” can sometimes lead to personal disadvantage. For example Sidonie, also known as “Madame Sidonyababloche”, who was innocently invited by my wife to stay in the guest room. He walked down the aisle with two huge suitcases, it should have been an omen, although I’ll never know what he needed them for. Not that
could necessarily check since she never opened hers
door. In fact, as it stands, I can be very thankful that he didn’t. From the moment he closed it I heard every bang, explosion and bomb imaginable, an explosion so loud it scared me to death. To my dog. The next morning I found him hiding behind the sofa, shaking like a leaf in the strong wind. Afraid of being thrown against the wall and jumping across the room.
Another “exhaust” that seemed to “hang” for ten minutes finally exploded so loud it shook the walls (I’ll send you the bill for the cracked plaster). Of course without mentioning the “perfume” created for the nose; In fact, two minutes after she closed it, a brown sludge began to seep from under the door; In other words, it slipped out of one crack and through another, and with a smell, I passed out on the hallway floor. I can’t even remember his
even once trying to turn the doorknob to visit John nearby. Could it all have dissolved into polluted, gaseous air?
The next morning he had the nerve not to say anything except to ask, “Where’s the kitchen? I have to fill up my gas tank! It took me three days to get back into that room, not to mention the psychiatrist’s bills. ” “. for my dog (mental breakdown, you know). The poor chap had to wear earmuffs for a month to block out all the loud noises until his nerves finally settled. On the other hand, I can only be very grateful that such an incident did not occur. on one of his “diarrhea days”.
In addition to the canine trauma, I suffered my own psychological, if not olfactory, damage and, at the recommendation of a friend (who does not fart), wrote down my experiences to “cleanse” my psyche. the same way she drenched her butt with air to clean out her two-mile long colon and then posted it to Facebook for others to learn from. His reply when he read it was that it was “old”. Apparently he had already told the story orally a number of times. Well, let me tell you how old he is: the fart he just made was on last week’s roast beef! (Actually, I think it was more like a rump roast.