I cannot overstate the amount of farts here.
It’s like a French department store of farts, breathtaking in scope, variety, and airiness.
Mel Brooks would say tone it down were these sound effects.
The walls of Jerico would topple from the trumpeting.
Hot air balloons would shoot into space if they flew over this place.
These farts raise more questions than a season of Jeopardy.
These farts cry out to heaven like they’re King David’s Psalms. (“From the depths…” Hmmm.)
These farts make you think about doomsday prepping. Do we have enough MREs? Gas masks?
These farts cross more boundaries than the guys here for illegal migration.
These farts make Richard Nixon come back from the dead and resign the Federal government nightly.
The angel of death refuses to visit the Glass House because of these farts.
The band Earth, Wind, and Fire was named after these farts.
And just wait until I tell you about the other guys’ farts!
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Group message. Draft 1.0. (I’m a child, I know.) You may share this letter. Fart.
