Every morning, without fail, the man would let out a huge fart as soon as he got out of bed—and then burst into wild laughter.
His wife would always scold him, saying, “One of these days, you’re going to fart your guts out.”
It’s Thanksgiving morning. The man is still asleep while his wife is prepping the turkey. Holding some turkey innards, she hatches a mischievous plan.
Quietly, she sneaks upstairs to their bedroom, pulls down the waistband of his underwear, and carefully stuffs him with warm turkey guts.
An hour later, she hears him waking up. His feet hit the floor, followed by his usual fart and laughter. Suddenly, the laugh cuts off into a scream—and then complete silence for ten minutes.
Finally, he comes downstairs and says, “Honey, I owe you an apology. You were right—I did fart my guts out. But thanks to God and these two fingers,” (holding up his soiled first two fingers) “I managed to put them all back in. I’m going to be okay.”
