Over the weekend, I went camping with MCast2014 and his fiance, which happens to be Snake's sister. This "quiet camping trip" quickly turned into a man weekend. Accompanied by Snake's parents, the five of us set up shop just north of Muskegon. The weekend was filled with the typical necessities of a camping trip: bonfires, beer, cigars, and farting. And it quite possibly discovered the new version of "planking."
Last semester, in a physiology lab course, my brother uncovered a bittersweet fact; his metabolism is 55% faster than an average metabolism. The best part of that is metabolic rates are genetic, meaning mine is very similar. To most people, this could prove fatal. I can just imagine the businessman sitting in the middle of an important meeting, shitting his pants while regretting having lunch at Taco Bell. For my brother an I, it's a gift from God. We are told to exploit our strengths; I think we do a great job of doing that.
Sitting around the fire, I couldn't help but think of the scene from Nutty Professor when all the fatasses are blowing holes in their underwear. And the part when the grandma says, "Don't let the gray hair fool ya, I ain't no easy win nigga." But that's besides the point. We formed our own rendition of this scene with a multitude of farts-some loud and rumbly, some high pitched, some silent, and some petite (for the ladies of course).
To end the weekend the right way, Snake's sister and I made a friendly trade, which left me with the overwhelmingly awesome opportunity to lay a fat fart right in her face. Ironically, we had tacos for dinner that night. About fifteen minutes after dinner, I stood up and let the group know that this was it; the moment was here. I'll let you watch the rest for yourself...
Beans, beans, the magical fruit, the more you eat, the more you...lay beef stew on your soon-to-be-sister-in-law's forehead.
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