Friday, 30 March 2012


You are sitting in your car at the drive thru.  You've placed your order and rolled your window back up.  You let one rip.  You realize the smell that you've just unleashed is a force the likes of which is only dreamed of by syphilitic mental patients.  You have legitimate concerns that the structural integrity of any adhesives in your vehicle will be significantly degraded by the unnatural gas you've just emitted.  You ponder the likelihood of getting an emergency cat scan before the weekend to identify which specific organ is currently rotting inside of you.  And then you notice you're next in line for the pick up window.

And you pray.

You pray to any and all higher beings to grant your dash fans sufficient power to do a complete changeover of the tainted air in your cabin before you roll the next 20 feet to pick up your egg mcmuffins.

And you pray that any lingering odour that may be picked up by the innocent cashier will be attributed to a nearby farm.  Because surely that smell could only come from some dead or dying livestock.

Here's hoping your prayers get answered too.

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