I Don't Remember Farting

by James Moran

I'm of a certain age where it becomes excusable to forget things, but not this. My wife kicked me under the table, and I thought, what? Her kicks are always warranted, usually for bringing up religion or politics, but for the life of me I didn't know what I'd done. Our guests looked uncomfortable and slightly ill. During dessert, my wife kicked me again. Please keep me in your thoughts.


James Moran will be seeing a doctor next Tuesday. He lives in Stamford, Connecticut.