Anyway, one of the things we had was the Shelter’s Garlic Lobster that had so much fried cili padi (Capsicum frutescens…what is its name in English?) and garlic laced on it. By the time we headed back for home, Wifey and I were trading burps and farts inside the car itself. We would trade salvos against each other and I could imagine how those soldiers on the Somme during World War One must have felt being exposed to the mustard gas released by the German army.
Well, true to my character, I never hold crap for long. The moment we arrived home, I just rushed for the porcelain throne and dumped all that potent stuff – clean!
Now, Wifey at that time had been constipated for two days. She’s so famous for that, that at times, enema had to be administered. And who will always have to go to the pharmacy to get her supply of enema and KY? ME! M-E, ME! I get funny looks everytime I buy enema and KY. I don’t mind so much if I were to put on my MCOBA t-shirt (MCOBA stands for Malay Champions of Buggering Asses), but in plain t-shirts, they look at me as though I am a pervert.
Not that I am not, though.
Now back to Wifey, she’s blogged once about her ability to dispense killer farts. And I shit you not. Excuse my pun, if you must. You can read all about it HERE. But this time around, her previous killer fart would have been whipped up by Christian Dior or something for being the sweetest discovery of the year. She kept running into the bathroom everytime she had the urge to fart. And somehow, the smell would seep out through the bottom of the bathroom door, into this bedroom. I cannot imagine how the tiles on the wall of the bathroom could stand all that torture without sliding down onto the floor!
To cut a long story short, in the end, we fell asleep at around 3am after she had taken some laxatives. I was slipping into Lalaland, and occassionally gave that involuntary muscle spasm jerks, when I heard that familiar, silently-loving sound that went ~PUuuuUUussSSSssSSssss~. Klaxons shrilled, the tannoys blared ‘Battle Stations‘! This was the real thing. This was no drill!
I hurriedly got up to try to make airtight the comforter that was covering her sleeping body. The gaps in the fibres couldn’t have been more than 0.1 microns in size, but somehow this killer gas managed to seep out. I cannot imagine the discolouration that was taking place on my sarong nearest to her rear orifice. OH, THE SMELL!!!
THIS WAS WHAT KILLED THE DINOSAURS!!!
And lingered in the room it did. Wifey never reacted to the smell except that little “UUhhhHH!” that escaped her mouth – almost silent. I can imagine the sudden increase in booger production just to help plug the nostrils.
Anyway, as they say, as Snake Kings will die because of snake-bites, Wifey almost had her end when she finally managed to dump three days of toxic waste collection. Even she had trouble breathing.
After that episode, I don’t mind being called a backdoor person. I WILL buy her enema and KY without a single whimper so as to help her ease her mind…and bowel movement.
And what of this whole episode? Her killer farts are one of the things that makes her unique – things I would miss about her whenever we have to be away from each other.
And her unique traits are one of the reasons I love this woman very much – gross or not.