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Unreconstructed barbarian Zeets called to give me a recap on his date with a girl he took to a popular local lounge.
Zeets: It was all going well until I felt an explosion of gases in my intestines. A deep rumbling. I couldn’t do anything while she was there next to me.
Me: Why not go to the bathroom?
Zeets: Cream puffs excuse themselves to the bathroom to pass gas. Real men wait for a clearing in the room and let it rip. BRRRAAAPPP! Anyhow, we were sitting down. I don’t like to be rousted from a comfortable position.
Me: Then you dropped a patented Zeets cluster bomb. I remember those unfondly.
Zeets: Oh yes! Not right away. I held it in for as long as I could, the pressure building, until we were ready to leave. I hustled her ahead of me and stayed a few steps behind.
Me: So she was out of smell shot. How chivalrous.
Zeets: There was a group of young luscious chicks on the dance floor… oh man, one of them was wearing black skintight leather pants… [pause to make inhaling through teeth sound… “oh yeeeeeeahhh”]… laughing and having a good time, probably students new to the city… exploring their world and their womanhood. I got up and blasted them, one of my best yet. Right in the middle of their tea time.
Me: No fear.
Zeets: Nope! The music was loud so they didn’t hear it.
Me: It wasn’t a smelly one?
Zeets: Oh no, my friend, it was a smelly one. As I walked out the door I heard the girls shrieking and yelling “PEW!”. ha! Perfect! I left with a smile on my face.
Me: And no one suspected anything.
Zeets: Not a thing. I bet they spent the rest of the night looking at each other and pointing fingers.
Me: Besides the bodily functions the lounge worked its magic on your date?
Zeets: Like an aphrodisiac. It’s never let me down.
Me: You like this chick?
Zeets: Yeah, she’s fun. Pretty. We had a good, solid makeout. With tongue.
Me: That’s good. What does she do for a living?
Zeets: I don’t remember… some non-profit, save Darfur crap or something like that.
Attention to detail. We have it ladies. It’s just selective.