The story began two years ago when my brother and father went out for a drive. I now will tell you what happened as verified by my father, shamefully, as he hid in his study for the remainder of the night.
My brother was in the passenger seat, and my father, loving to fart for his own enjoyment, was having quite the bit of fun at my brother's expense. My brother put up with it for quite a few miles. According to him, our father was laughing and grinning and hiking his rear into the air, passing wind that only comes after a night eating my mother's homemade beans, the ones with extra bacon.
Finally my brother had enough and to my father's surprise he said "Old man, you’re going to shit yourself, and I'm going to laugh." My father laughed and said, “Never.” Then he farted several more times. Once. Twice. But then...
His usually joyful face suddenly turned sour, and his eyes opened in shock - the type that only happens after you accidently crap yourself. He froze and looked at my brother; my brother just smiled and looked back at our dad. And so began the trip to the nearest Exon station a couple of miles down the road.
Dad pulled in and said, "You’re going to drive home. Get in the driver’s seat and wait for me." After ten minutes of waiting my brother said Dad came running out of the Exon and hopped into the passenger's seat. My brother looked in horror to see the attendant, angry as hell, heading toward the bathroom; and my dad, not missing a beat, jumped in the car and shouted, "GO GO GO!" My brother put the car into reverse and did as he was told. All my dad said on the ride home was, "I feel bad for the attendant... I couldn’t get the messed cleaned up..."
Later that night, as my mom did the laundry, she asked my dad one question. “Where, dear, are your socks?"
