You know when you're at the chiropractor, and the bastard is twisting and contorting you so that you look like some f*cked up jumbo pretzel on crack?
And just when you think you can't possibly contort any more, he freaking crabs the opposite leg and shoulder and body slams you into the little bench/bed thingy. All your intestine's are shmooshed together like 27 elephants crammed into a cop car and you feel like your going to hurl up last years breakfast.
And then it happens........................
The whisper in the panties.
The anal acoustics.
The butt bark.
Yes, yes folks, I tooted.
Involuntarily, of course.
And of course it's at a lull in the conversation, so I'm positive that pretty much anyone in a 4 block radius probably heard it.
I look up at the Doc from my pretzel twist, try to shrug my shoulders and am like, "Woops, I guess I had a little fluff build up."
And that's when he just stares at me.
Then, after what seems like 4 years of uncomfortable silence he asks, "What?"
And I'm all, "You know, I tooted. Sorry 'bout that."
And then he stares at me some more.
Another 4 years of agonizing-I-want-to-crawl-onto-railroad-tracks-and-have-head-on-contact-with-a-train silence follows.
I'm thinking, WTF?! Quit staring at me swan! You've had to have heard someone break the wind before!
That's when he goes, "Ohhhhh, you farted! I didn't even hear it."
Sweet motha f*cking baby Jesus.