Truth is always funnier that fiction, especially when it comes to flatulence. Letting one rip at the wrong place and the wrong time can cause embarrassment beyond belief. Sometimes, even though embarrassing, it's the funniest thing that CAN happen. I'm here to offer a few methane-induced anecdotes that have happened since I and my wife got married more than 22 years ago. I can't give you specific dates, times, or locations for most of them because I really don't remember the details. You'd probably think I'd be reluctant to talk about it but I don't think anyone should ever be ashamed of involuntary body functions. I fart, you fart, we all fart. Only liars never fart. Some of us even tell fart jokes to each other.

Once when my wife and son (who couldn't have been more than six years of age) were ahead of me, going through the checkout counter at a grocery store, my wife accidentally let one go. It was really loud. She turned to her left and said, "Jon, stop doing that!". He immediately replied, "No, mom, it was you!" My wife has brown skin and it turned to a very dark reddish-brown instantly. The cashier just laughed.

There was a time when my wife and son (same son) were two aisles down from where I was, grocery shopping. I released an SBDer (silent but deadly), smelled it, and immediately fled to join my wife and son in the aisle they were in. A few minutes later, we heard a loud, "Ewwww! Who died in here?" I, of course, pretended I had never been there but it took every ounce of strength to keep from laughing out loud.

There was another time, same place, different day, where I released an SBDer and was so busy reading a label on something (and didn't smell it myself yet) that I didn't see my wife and son enter the aisle. My wife smelled it, knew it was me, and started beating me with her purse.

Once me and my wife were traveling down a road headed somewhere south of Phoenix, Arizona. Suddenly, the odor inside the car became extremely noxious. My wife yelled at me, cursing me, telling me to roll down the window if I wanted to pass gas. I tried to explain that we were passing the sewage treatment plant as she rolled down her window and got an even bigger whiff. Ha! That taught her not to falsely accuse me. I always claim mine.

When I was stationed in North Carolina, our family lived in a mobile home and it was a period of time where we had little money to spare and lived pretty much payday to payday. Well, we always turned the heater off at night and used blankets. After several occasions of having my wife fart in bed without warning me, I took the liberty one night of returning the favor. Only this time, I pulled the blanket over her head so she couldn't escape.

When guests were over at our house, we couldn't blame our accidental breaking of wind on our pets because we didn't have any. It didn't matter, though, because Jon would always emphasize his by farting and following it up with a "uh!". So it sounded like "riiiipppp, uh!" It was quite annoying.

I didn't know this, but apparently methane travels against the wind. There was a time when I had a fan blowing toward me and toward the door, with my wife and son upwind from the fan. I released an SBDer and they both gagged and ran out of the room. I still can't figure that one out.

When we lived in Phoenix, my wife was renowned for her ability to walk up the stairs and fart at the same time, several times and synchronized with her footsteps. It truly was a sight and sound to behold.

There were many more occasions that I just can't bring to mind right now. The amazing thing about all this is that my older son, Joseph, never seemed to fart. Never. To this day, I have no idea how he controls it. If I feel gas pressing against my sphincter, I let it go. Better out than in, I always say (quoting Shrek). Of course, there ARE places where it's much more appropriate to hold it until later. Places like elevators, meetings, important dinner parties, etc. Let one go in one of those places and you'll probably be scorned for life.