CLOUD OF DEATH

Katie likes to try to talk to me whenever I'm on the phone or computer. It's as if the sudden distraction of my attention is all it takes to bring on an attack and she just HAS to tell me this one story RIGHT NOW OR SHE'LL DIE. And some nights, this means she must invade my room. Which is dumb. Because I don't always play well with others.

For example:

Katie was laying on MY bed and I didn't want her there so I smacked her butt as hard as I could. If you know ANYTHING about Katie this fact will not upset you because you'll know Katie has an ass that could WITHSTAND THE FORCE OF AN ATOMIC BOMB.

As means of retaliation, she farted releasing an invisible CLOUD OF DEATH over the vicinity of her rear.

So I forcibly removed her from my bed using my feet.

Yes. That's right. I kicked her onto the floor. And promptly knocked shit over.

In my haste to pick up the things that were now toppled, my face took an UNPLEASANT trajectory, right through the aforementioned CLOUD OF DEATH.

For a moment, neither of us could breath. Me from choking and sputtering, her from laughing herself silly. Again, if you know ANYTHING about Katie, you are WELL AWARE of the fact that she is much like a man in some regards, particularly, the stench that E-M-A-N-A-T-E-S from her posterior.

I'm pretty sure I threw up in my mouth a little.