Digestive Issues Cause Tragedy

Let me tell you a little bit about what happened to me, and none of this
is really any good.  It first started when we ate at Boston Market, and 
the food that we ate there, well, it caused us all to become a little bit
flatulent.  Okay, an awful lot flatulent.

So that night, we're lying in bed, and we just can't stop expelling gas.
It's made worse by the fact that the cat is in the bed with us,
is in the bed with us, and let me tell you that there is nothing worse
smelling in the world than cat gas.  I suppose if you ate rotten fish all
the time, you'd have the same problem.

But as it was, we were lying there in bed, and trying very hard not to 
expel any more gas, but then every once in a while one of us would come
out with this horrible noise and we'd both start laughing and then we'd
lose control and it would start up again.  

I tried to turn the fan on in order to get the stuff out of the room, but
she complained that the fan was just taking it and blowing it into her
face and making the problem worse.  The whole room was just filled with gas
and there was no way for it to get out.  The open doorway was no help at
all.  I got up to open a window and turn off the fan.  You know, they tell
you not to use electrical appliances near gas?  They're right about that,
and now I know why.  When I turned off the fan, the spark at the switch
set off a huge gas explosion.  All I could see was yellow flame.  I was
knocked to the wall and the house was blown off the foundation and sent
hundreds of feet up into the air.

I came to lying in the yard outside the window, and looked around.  The
cat came up to me, sat on my chest, and farted.  I tried to sit up.  It
was evident, though, that I was now in a very different place, and the
house was lying sideways on a hillside with some woman crushed under the
corner.

At that point, an enormous and brightly colored low-rider came up, and
another woman got out and surveyed the damage.   "Ay, Caramba!" she
said, "You have killed the evil witch of the North."  

It turns out that this evil witch of the north was a very cruel dude.
Up in Canada there, it gets so cold that when you fart, the methane gas
crystallizes right out of the air and onto your pants, and this witch
woman would collect it in little vials to sell to crackheads.  She didn't
get much repeat business, though.

But anyway, it seems that the good witch of the South had come to survey
the damage, and next thing I knew, we were following a yellow gas conduit
to the brown city.  
-- 
"C'est un Nagra.  C'est suisse, et tres, tres precis."