Browsing a high-end jewelry boutique requires an air of sophisticated grace—unless a sudden, catastrophic lapse in biological control completely shatters the illusion.
An elegant woman was admiring a breathtaking diamond bracelet. Wanting to check the clarity of the stones under the lighting, she leaned deep over the glass display case. In doing so, she accidentally unleashed a sharp, distinct flatulent blast that echoed loudly through the pristine, quiet showroom.
Mortified, she quickly straightened up, her heart pounding as she prayed the coast was clear. To her absolute horror, an immaculately dressed salesman had materialized right behind her, looking cool as a cucumber.
“Good morning, Madam,” he greeted her with flawless, upper-class professionalism. “How may we assist you today?”
Desperately praying he had just arrived, she cleared her throat, pointed to the glass, and asked in her most dignified voice, “Yes, tell me… what is the price of this beautiful piece?”
The salesman didn’t blink. He simply adjusted his tie and replied:
“Well, Madam, if you farted just looking at it, you’re going to absolutely crap your pants when I tell you the price.”
