The other night, lying in bed. I'm still reading Outlander and still loving it. Corb is still playing Clash of Kings. Not loving it so much, any more.
And suddenly and without warning, he lets one RIP.
You know what I'm talking about, right? The kind of rump roaring you only get to experience when you're either dealing with a really old person or someone you've been involved with for a really really long time. It was loud. It was rank. It was an explosion. It shook the walls. The hills were alive with the sound of sphincter. The cats ran for cover. The dog whimpered in her cage. The stucco on the ceiling started to fall apart.
After the explosion, after I had recovered from having part of my nose burned off as a result of the odiferous discharge emanating from his anus, I calmly closed my book and turned around to look at him. Corb lay there, eyes wide open, trying not to laugh.
"Corb, I have a favor to ask."
There may or may have been tears in his eyes. They may have been the result of the horrible Dutch oven he had just created. Or maybe, it was just from sheer embarrassment over his rectal turbulence. Who knows? "Yes?"
"From now on, when we are in this bed together, I want you to ask yourself one thing. It's a very simple question, actually: What would Lady Mary do?"
Corb squinted his eyes, confused. "What would..."
"That's right! What would Lady Mary do? Five simple little words. What would Lady Mary have done while she was lying in bed with Matthew at bedtime? Before they kissed goodnight and the Downton Abbey music played? Now, here's a scenario: Would she have let rip with one of the vilest farts known to man? Would that have been proper? I think not, my friend. I think not. And if you cannot answer the question with a 'Yes, this is something that Lady Mary would do,' then I no longer want you to do it in the bed as we go to sleep at night. So, I am going to let that fart go for right now, but..."
"I beg to differ, my good man," Corb replied. "I happen to know that Lady Mary let out some of the stinkiest farts ever known to Downton Abbey."
"Really! Lady Mary was a huge air biscuit bomber. She could boom-boom with the best of them! In fact, her butt yodeling was so amazing that people would visit from far and wide, just to hear her heinie hiccups up close and personal. And I'll have you know that Matthew loved them, in particular. When Lady Mary played her trouser trumpet, her panty burps, that man would kick his heels in glee and beg her to let her sphincter siren sound again! So, fine, Ted, FINE! If it's good enough for Lady Mary, it's good enough for you, and I think I just might have some thunder from down under ready to rip again! Ready? One..two..."
It was at that point that I threw off my blanket and headed out of the room, screaming with fright. It all grew dim and hazy after that. And all I could think, as I started to lose consciousness, was: this is NOT something Lady Mary would do...