Since it's Halloween, I'll resurrect this thread and put it to the test. Here's a paragraph I wrote this morning, and I'll let you be the judges: Funny, not funny, or just gross.
Warning: Major League TMI ahead (fictional TMI, but TMI just the same).
As the almost-bad potato salad started to affect my digestive tract, I ran into the bathroom. I let escape a series of farts that both repulsed and fascinated me. These were noises that hadn't been heard for sixty-five million years. They were like unto the great dinosaur farts of old. It started with the basso profundo of the Brachiosaur bottom burps that would boil prehistoric swamps, killing first below and then above the waterline with the stench of half-digested greenery. As this finally played out, it turned into a passable imitation of a T-Rex Twizzler, that fweet-fweet-fweet-fweet that would trumpet through Jurassic forests as the mighty predator ran, swiveling hips of doom that would loosen the bowels of even the stoutest Triceratops. Which, not coincidentally, was my next imitation: Following my auditory visit to Dino-Land, I was next allowed the distinct privilege of forming my own supply of coprolite-to-be, enough to supply future jewelry shops worldwide.
I would like to option this treatment. Will Ferrell has already expressed interest.
