Ever since Burger King changed their french fry recipe, I’ve taken to eating their onion rings.
In fact, I love their onion rings.
Now, let me immediately head off some nitpickers here who are apt to say (rightfully so) that “onion rings” is a quite a liberal term since the BK version is a cruel bastardization of the culinary form. If NASA were forced to make some sort of space-friendly minced-onion-with-batter dish, I am pretty sure they’d come up with something much like the BK onion rings. But no matter, I like the way they taste.
I wish, alas, I could say the same for the flora in my gut. They apparently do not like the way BK onion rings taste. I say this because the gas I get from BK onion rings has the peculiar property of still smelling like onion rings once expelled… Onion rings that have been rotting in the nectrotic intestine of a corpse for 6-8 weeks.
My husband is so horrified by the smells that eminate from the nether reasons of his delicate flower of a wife that he has insisted that I cut BK onion rings from my diet. I try to comply. I do try. But you know, I worked it out to a science one time by noting that it usually takes 5 good hours for onion rings to have this effect on me. Sooooo… if I can have onion rings when I know I am not going to be around any friends, relatives, or african violets for 5-10 hours, I indulge. Last night I was casting about for a late supper for myself (he was at a movie) and did the math. Five hours after would have us both in bed snoozing away. Sure, the noxious fumes might burn some nose hairs and shave some years of our life expectency, but we wouldn’t be awake to be bothered. And maybe for once the cat wouldn’t lie on me. So off to BK it was. Large order of onion rings, happily consumed at 9 p.m.
I should point out that I keep no secrets from my husband. I’ve got nothing to hide. Usually. So it felt very funny to me when I found myself burying the bag deep in the trash so he wouldn’t know. But a wife does what a wife has to do to keep the peace.
I wake this morning refreshed and happy. I check to make sure my husband is still breathing. He is. Whew. I walk to the closet and am suddenly alarmed by a rumbling. What’s this?!? I thought during the night our bodies were relaxed and we passed gas at will! Who’d have thought I would have anything left! Oh no!
I fled the house before anyone except the dog was up (his expression was unreadable).
Now it is one o’clock. This is STILL going on. I am stuck in my office. I have had no less than two people ask me if we can meet about upcoming projects today. I have waved them off and suggested another day and acted really busy so they’d leave my office quickly. Little do they know I do so out of concern for their health and for my job.
I see my husband in 4 hours. We have a date tonight. I have four hours to get my body back on track.
If I weren’t trying to clench my buttcheeks together so tightly, my knees would be knocking in fear. Can I sue BK if he leaves me? Can I sue BK if everyone in my office refuses to work with me? When I am penniless and single is any man going to want me? Is any Doper going to want me after reading this?