So, Tyler and I are hanging out, it’s late, and we’re both tired.
This is at the girlfriend’s house; and she is one of these chicks that piles couch cushions everywhere…
…violently so.
You know those extra-squishy
pillows 
I’d like to think of it as being on the inside of that box kids throw bean bags into.
Now, one of the landmarks of any good relationship is if one of you can cook. In our case, the girlfriend can cook. I mean, she can cook. Because of her cooking, however, I had been losing weight; most of that weight being gas.
Seriously, she serves me nothing but Thai food, Pork Tenderloin Dianne, Steak, and pineapples.
…yes, pineapples…
Somehow, every meal she makes has enough pineapple in it to turn my butt into a pants-cannon waiting to lift me right out of the chair .
This night, however, was special. I had spent the evening eating her Thai food, drinking Full Throttle, and practicing Jiujitsu against Tyler, who just loves to shove his elbows and knees into my stomach while we are rolling.
So I decided to pay him back that night, and the results were just astonishing.
The first fart, smelled too bad for words; gasoline and sewage. Tyler sprinted away from me and ran to the other couch.
The smell was so bad, that to stop myself from having to smell my own stink, I sat on one of the girlfriend’s dumb pillows to smother the fumes.
And then I discovered something.
Tyler is making a facial expression that truly says “Awg.” Twisting his nose, he says: “dude, your ass smells like river water.” This causes me to throw the pillow I had been sitting on at his head.
Then, the discovery; farts can be concealed in pillows. The moment Tyler’s hand went to smack the pillow away from his face, my ass-stream came spewing out all over his mouth.
The worst part? It was still hot from me sitting on the pillow.
For the rest of the night, I kept farting into those little pillows and throwing them at Tyler, laughing until my ribs cramped. Eventually, I started farting straight into the actual couch cushions, and then rushing Tyler with them. When he eventually fell to the ground, I’d hold the couch cushions over his face.
This is all a lot funnier to the person that has gas.
It’s funny how this changed us. Today, whenever one of us farts on the couch, the other one always gets this guarded look.
What is the moral of this story? Enlightenment can only come from having gas; so that someone else can’t gas you first.
Live in fear…
/Jason
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