My brother, Bill, was the President of a local bank and nurtured the image at work…well-dressed, formal speech, everything in its place. After calling his secretary into his office one day, he unleashed a silent but deadly fart.
Both he and Lynne tried to ignore it, but finally she asked, “Excuse me, Mr. McCarthy…but did you pass gas?”
To which my brother replied, “Well of course I did, you don’t think I smell this way all the time, do you?”