#poor flopsy

Seven year old Marie didn’t even wait for the smell of her brother’s gas to reach her nose before shoving him off the couch, not even caring if he whacked his head on the coffee table.

“I’m telling Uncle Kenny!” she cried, scrambling off the back of the couch, grabbing the soft minky arm of Levi’s stuffed bunny in the process.

She stood at the threshold, where the living room met the kitchen and stuck out her bottom, dangling his precious toy behind her, right in the line of fire for her own flatulence.