FileTitle: Prose1215.html
Category: Humor
Type: Prose
Description: Baked Beans (Written better?)
Subject: Baked Beans are Dangerous ( slightly rude )

Once upon a time there lived a man who had a terrible passion for
baked beans. He loved them, he adored them, he yearned for them. But
they always caused him a great deal of embarrassment shortly after
eating them. The reaction of his body to the beans was swift and
terrible to behold.

One day he met a girl and fell in love. When it became apparent that
they would marry, he realised she might be even more embarrassed and
humiliated by his addiction to baked beans. He decided to make the
supreme sacrifice and give up his beloved baked beans. A short time
later they were married.

Some months later, on his way home from work, his car broke down. He
was not too far from home so he decided to leave the car and walk the
rest of the way. He passed a small roadside cafe and decided to call
his wife and tell her that he would be late for supper. As he entered
the cafe, the smell of baked beans overwhelmed him. He still had
several miles to go, and decided that he could walk off any
after-effects before reaching home. Before he knew it, he had eaten
three large plates of baked beans. Even as he left the cafe, the
effects began to be felt. He pooted up a hill, and poot-pooted down
the other side. As he grew closer to home, the frequency and
forcefulness diminished greatly, and he felt reasonably safe.

Just as he reached his home, however, he felt a great rumbling inside
and was seized with a terrible urgency. As he waited  outside his
front door to release one last effort, his wife threw open the door.
She excitedly exclaimed, "Darling, I have made the most wonderful
surprise dinner for you." She blindfolded him and led him to his
chair at the head of the table. Just as she was ready to remove the
blindfold, the phone rang. She made him promise not to peek until
she returned and went to answer the phone. When she had gone, he
seized the opportunity, shifted his weight to one leg and loudly
broke wind. It was not only loud, but as ripe as a rotten egg. He had
a hard time breathing, so he took his napkin and began to fan the air
about him. He just started feeling better, when he felt another urge.
He again raised one leg and let her rip. It sounded like and tuba,
and smelled so bad, that he was gasping for air. He fanned the
napkin, until his arms ached. Things had just about returned to
normal when he felt another powerful urge. He shifted his weight to
the other leg and let go. This was the prize-winner. The windows
rattled, the dishes on the table shook and a minute later the flowers
on the table were dead.

While keeping one ear on the conversation in the hallway, he
continued like this for the next 15 to 20 minutes, fanning away each
time with his napkin. When the sounds of farewells indicated the end
of the telephone conversation, he neatly laid his napkin in his lap
and folded his hands on top of it. Smiling contentedly, he was the
picture of innocence when his wife returned to the room.

Apologising for taking so long, she asked if he had peeked. After
assuring her that he had not, she removed the blindfold, revealing
the dinner guests seated around the table for his surprise birthday