Today I ate a bag of farts for lunch.
It was a sad lunch. Some days that happens. I throw whatever I have handy in my lunch bag. Today it happened to be an asian salad kit I had purchased over the weekend, consisting primarily of chopped up cabbage.
The salad must have been fermenting away in its plastic bag.
It wasn’t just my opinion that it was a bag of farts. My sitting-near-me co-workers were a lot less than thrilled by that opened bag of salad. One girl wrapped up the bag quickly and the other girl crinkled her nose and politely said, “That stinks.”
I know you’re wondering what I ate instead.
Because no one would just plow ahead and eat a bag of farts.
You’d be wrong, Reader. My lunch options were limited, so I ate that bag of farts.
I cautioned my co-worker, who shares an office space with me, that she’d better start saying some prayers to whatever jesus she prays to that the old cabbage doesn’t make it’s second appearance anytime soon, because it would be farts squared at that point.
Luckily for her, I’m a lady*.
*not at all. as is evidenced by the number of times this post contains the word farts.