I always had a love for beans, ever since I was a young child. Wondering what’s so bad about addiction? It always bring such terrible flatulance upon me. This is a little story about a time when I let my addiction to beans get the best of me.

It starts with a sweet woman with whom I fell in love with. I love spending time with her, but I never had informed her of my terrible love for beans. When it became apparent that we would marry, I made the supreme sacrifice to try and give up beans.

Some months later, on my birthday, my car broke down on the way home from work. Since I lived in the countryside, I had called my wife and told her that I would be home rather late because I had to walk home. On my way, I passed by a small diner and the odor of baked beans was more than I could handle. With miles to walk, I figured that I would be able walk off any ill effects by the time I had reached home, so I helped myself to the diner. Before I knew it, I had consumed three large orders of baked beans. The whole way home, I made sure that I released all the gas I had building up in my bowels.
Upon my arrival home, my wife seemed to be excited to see me and exclaimed delightedly, “Darling I have a surprise for dinner tonight.”

She then blindfolded me and led me to my chair at the dinner table. I took a seat and just as she was about to remove my blindfold, the telephone rang. She made me promise not to touch the blindfold until she returned and went to answer the call. The baked beans I had consumed were still affecting me and the pressure was becoming most unbearable, so while my wife was out of the room I seized the opportunity, shifted my weight to one leg and let one go. It was not only loud, but it smelled like a fertilizer truck running over a skunk in front of a pulpwood mill. I took my napkin from my lap and fanned the air around me vigorously. Then, shifting to the other cheek, I ripped off three more. The stink was worse than cooked cabbage. Keeping my ears carefully tuned to the conversation in the other room, I went on like this for another few minutes.

When eventually the telephone farewells signalled the end of my freedom, I quickly fanned the air a few more times with my napkin, placed it on my lap and folded my hands back on it feeling very relieved and pleased with myself.My face must have been the picture of innocence when my wife returned, apologizing for taking so long. She asked me if I had peeked through the blindfold, and I assured her I had not. At this point, she removed the blindfold to reveal myself surrounded by twelve dinner guests sitting at the table around me. All of them were staring at me in awe and silence as my wife yells “Surprise!!!”