The Fart That Almost Ended It All
An elderly couple had spent fifty years together, their marriage filled with laughter, routine, and a fair share of playful teasing. Every morning, without fail, the husband would let out an enormous fart as he climbed out of bed, always following it with his signature laugh. His wife, shaking her head at the daily spectacle, never missed the chance to warn him, “One day, you’re going to fart your guts out.”
But did he listen? Of course not. That morning ritual was as much a part of their marriage as Sunday pancakes and passive-aggressive arguments about the thermostat. And so, every day, the thunderous morning announcement continued.
Then came Thanksgiving.
As she prepared the holiday meal, an idea struck her—a stroke of mischievous genius. With a devilish grin, she scooped up a handful of turkey innards and quietly tiptoed into their bedroom. With delicate precision (and a level of dedication only decades of marriage could inspire), she tucked the slimy pieces into his underwear and tiptoed out, barely containing her giggles.
An hour later, the familiar sound echoed through the house—his usual fart-laugh routine. But this time, the laughter was abruptly cut short by a bloodcurdling scream, followed by an eerie silence. The kind of silence that makes you wonder if you’ve gone too far.
Then came the noises. Shuffling. Breathing. The kind of quiet panic that only someone who believes they’ve spontaneously ejected an internal organ can produce.
When he finally made his way downstairs, he looked as pale as their Thanksgiving mashed potatoes, his hands trembling, his fingers coated in something he clearly wished he hadn’t touched. With a sheepish expression, he cleared his throat and said:
“Honey, I owe you an apology. You were right all these years—I finally farted my guts out.” He took a deep breath, holding up his shaking fingers. “But don’t worry. By the grace of God and these two fingers, I managed to shove them all back in.”
She collapsed into laughter, tears streaming down her face, as her husband stood there, a man who had stared death (or at least dinner) in the face and lived to tell the tale.
A Marriage Built on Mischief
Theirs was a love built on humor, pranks, and the unspoken agreement that revenge would always be on the table. This was the same couple that had spent decades trying to outdo each other.
- Like the time she replaced his shampoo with mayonnaise, and he spent a week wondering why his hair smelled like a sandwich.
- Or the time he secretly sewed bells into the hem of her bathrobe, leaving her to jingle around the house like a festive ghost.
- And let’s not forget when she swapped the sugar for salt in his morning coffee, and he spent fifteen minutes trying to convince himself that “maybe coffee just tastes different in winter.”
Fifty years of marriage had taught them that laughter was just as essential as love. And on that Thanksgiving morning, she had certainly given them both something to be thankful for: the memory of the day he truly believed he had farted his insides out.
And so, the tradition continued. Because while love is wonderful, love with laughter? That’s what keeps you together for a lifetime.
The Never-Ending Remote Battle
If you’ve been married long enough, you know that love isn’t always candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach. Sometimes, it’s a war of attrition over who gets control of the remote.
Every evening, the husband and wife would sit in their designated spots in the living room. The moment the husband got comfortable, she would “innocently” reach for the remote and change the channel.
“Oh, come on, do we really need to watch another murder documentary?” he groaned. “I swear, if something happens to me, they’re gonna think you planned it.”
“Oh please,” she shot back, “if something happens to you, it’ll be from eating six hot dogs in one sitting, not me.”
This battle of the remote continued for decades. He’d attempt a sneak attack by sitting down first, only for her to casually stroll in with a cup of tea, plop down beside him, and click—goodbye football, hello home renovation shows.
Then, on their 40th anniversary, she thought she had finally won. He surprised her with a heartfelt gift: a universal remote, pre-programmed to change the channel at random every 10 minutes.
“Now we can both suffer equally,” he grinned.
For once, she was speechless. But only for a moment. “Touché, old man,” she muttered, before promptly hiding the batteries.
A Love Letter in Morse Code
After decades together, this elderly husband still made it a point to tell his wife he loved her every single day. The only problem? He had developed a rather unique method of delivery: Morse code… through his sneezes.
It started as a joke. A particularly violent sneeze shook their kitchen one morning, and his wife, in between sips of coffee, remarked, “You sound like you’re trying to tell me something.”
From that day forward, he took it as his personal mission to communicate his love via sneezes. A single sneeze meant “I love you.” Two in a row? “You’re beautiful.” Three in rapid succession? “What’s for dinner?”
At first, she found it ridiculous. But then she realized, after all these years, it was his unique way of showing affection. And so, without missing a beat, she started responding.
ACHOO! (I love you.)
“Bless you.” (I love you too.)
ACHOO! ACHOO! (You’re beautiful.)
“Stop it, I know.”
ACHOO! ACHOO! ACHOO! (What’s for dinner?)
“Meatloaf, you old fool.”
And just like that, they found their own secret language—one built on sneezes, sarcasm, and love.
Marriage, at its core, is about partnership. And while some might define that as unwavering support or shared responsibilities, these couples knew the truth: it’s about the moments that make you laugh until you can’t breathe, the playful pranks that keep things interesting, and the absolute certainty that, no matter what, you’ll never run out of stories to tell.
