Two Farts For Yes

It wasn't love at first sight. Repugnant was what hit him first. Fart was the ugliest pooh he'd ever set his eyes on. At six weeks, he was ready to display his unique social skills to attract any potential owner who's willing to bring him home.

Labrador retrievers are prized for their intelligent and unintrusive companionship. As a pup, Fart displayed none of the two qualities. His only obssession was with food.
He wagged his short, golden tell at us, toddling like a drunken old man. Fart was still learning to flex his limb muscles. My wife was completely taken in by his chubby, flatulence appearance.

"Look at him, hon. Isn't he the sweetest thing?"

"You reckon," I replied, untaken by the wriggling bundle desperately trying to worm its way into my wife's affection. "What do we need another bigger loser for?"

"That's just plain mean," chided his wife. "He's just a baby."

"A fat one."

"We can always downsize him."

"Under you care. Quite unlikely."

"Please," enticed his wife. "He's so unabashly adorable. He'll fit nicely with the two boys."

His hardened heart softened at the mention of his two golden retriever. Henry and William are his pride and joy. He regarded the obese bundle licking earnestly at his wife's face to try and win a place for himself at their home.

"I'm not sure we should take him, honey. He may be sweet and adorable in a bloat, flatulence sense. He'll have to fart twice to convince me to buy him."

At that precise moment, right on cue, Fart let out two consecutive rounds of mind-boggling gas attack. It was two farts for yes, all right!

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