Passed Air

Perhaps I ought to pay a bit more attention to how I ask a question.

The other morning I heard my wife pass air. Then she came down the hall only to do something not in her nature.

“Whew!” she announced. “I have bad gas.”

“Where do you think it came from?” I asked, wanting to know what she might have eaten to cause it.

Without missing a beat, she answered, “My butt.”