Toledo Tales

Hauptmann: denied his moment of aromatic reverie

(Toledo, OH) An afternoon of "olfactory bliss" that resulted from the production of particularly noxious gastrointestinal effluvia came to a sudden end after Toledo resident Craig Hauptmann took out the trash.

"I knew as soon as I stood up that I was on the verge of emitting the granddaddy of all rectal honks," he said. "By the time I walked back to the trash cans, it was apparent that I would not make it back into the house to wallow in this epic wave of crop dustery."

Hauptmann said that the "titanic blast" brought him temporary relief, but he was disappointed that he was not able to enjoy its lingering odors.

"Unfortunately, I was only able to briefly savor its delicate aroma," he noted. "It had superbly strong bitter overtones with a complex palate, consisting of a delicate aroma of hops delightfully balanced by a prominent malty character, with hints of cruciferous vegetables, lentils, and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups."

Hauptmann added that he holds his wife Linda responsible for the missed flatulent opportunity.

"Linda has been criminally and negligently obstructing and disregarding this important work for decades," he noted. "A person can learn a great deal about the state of his bowel health from the detailed study of his colonic calliopes. If I wind up with intestinal cancer, the blame is all Linda's."

Labels: farting

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.

Labels: farting, priests, Toledo