QUACK-ERS

Twas the night before Christmas, I finished the trees. And feeling good cheer, I'd drank a few beers. The treats I'd laid out didn't last very long. As I found myself snacking, I knew that was wrong. Then, later in bed, I awoke with a start. And realized the reason: my own noisy fart. Like sounds of ducks quacking, my buttocks were clapping. I was almost surprised that the bed sheets weren't flapping. It woke my poor spouse, and he yelled, "What the hell!" As the noise from these quack-ers had caused quite a smell. I told him a flock of wild ducks had flown in. And although it was late, they'd decided to sing. He said grab the Gas-X and tell them to leave. As their singing was lousy, and he felt he might heave. I told him I'd looked, but the Gas-X was gone. And I feared that the duck tunes may last all night long. So I handed him earbuds plus nose plugs as well. And I said that would help block the sounds and the smell. He gave me a look, then he quickly fired back. "There's a wine cork downstairs; it will help plug that quack."