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Sweet Jesus! Will You Leave the Bathroom So I Can Rip This Fart?

A Toledo Tales Guest Editorial
by Father Jon O’Brien

I hightailed it out of Mass and headed straight for the men's room, almost doubling over from the pain of this repressed flatulatory material. It started during the Gloria, and I managed to make it through the announcements before I thought I was about to burst.

And now here you are, dear parishioner, standing at the urinal like you are on a Sunday afternnon stroll through the park. Hurry, please hurry, lest the demon that lurks within my colon grabs you by the throat in a fatal choke-hold.

Jesus sweet Jesus I'm not sure I can hold this any longer but it's probably a sin for a priest to rip a bowel-emptying monster within the earshot and noseshot of every parishioner munching on a doughnut and sipping fresh coffee in the narthex and my God what will the children be thinking if they hear the priest blasting out a rectal trumpet and....

Oh! Blessed be! It was an eruption borne into the silent-but-deadly variety.

If you hurry, dear friend, the noxious fumes will dissipate before taking your life, and I will be able to point at you when the next person comes in, sharing a knowing smile to a fellow parishioner about your bowel troubles.

Yes, this too might be a sin, but God's glory is better served when the people believe their shepherds are not fart-filled thunderblasters.

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