Anyways, onions and farting are just a fact of life. I don’t care if they insert butt plugs, its still not fair to tell Miss Faltavich that she can’t enjoy the offerings of earth that haven’t been zapped by nuclear particles, and I think your efforts in this are well meant.

Next winter, I suggest just parking all the plows in front of her driveway and offer free onion soup to all the drivers.

Just thinking about this gives me flatulence.
Son of Guest

Everyone round these parts know that the Derwins will take any excuse to complain. Winter of 78 we got alot more snow than usual. Everyone had to dig their cars out every morning and we brought in snowplows from Fingers County to clear the roads. Wouldnt you know it the Derwins were telling anyone who would listen about how the plows seem to have pushed all the snow from the entire street into their driveway. Not a word of thanks to the nice folks of Fingers County who loaned us the plows without asking for a penny in return.

Well this time the Derwins were raising a fuss around town about how the smell of the onions cooking made their little dog go off his diet and how they had to take him to the veterinarian all the way across town and all the expenses they had to pay. At this point I should mention the dog is going on 18 years old and can barely stand up on its own. A change in the weather makes this poor animal suffer and it would be nothing but a blessing if the poor thing were to pass of natural causes tomorrow.

Miss Feltavich is a sensitive widow and never wanted anyone to come to harm, so even though she loved her onions, she gave up cooking with them every day. She tried to make a bargain with the Derwins, to check to see if they might be out of the house a certain times and see if she could arrange her cooking around their schedule, but they were just too high and mighty to accommodate the old widow.

It came to pass that the Derwins were in a head on collision with a truck full of chicken gizzards just after Christmas. I aint sayin that this is some sort of justice from above or that anyone in town will miss them very much. Even their own children moved across the country as soon as they were of age after all. After the funeral, I went and promised Miss Feltavich that come springtime when the ground has softened up a bit that I’d plant her some more of those white onions she loves so much.