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| - I regret to inform you that in casual conversation, my friend and I had gas passed upon by one of your performers (name redacted) at Larry Flynt's Hustler Club last night. I acknowledge that while we both smelt it, neither of us dealt it. We are men of our word and when we looked into each other's watery eyes, we knew that we were being honest in our roles in this fart crime.
It's also troubling that due to circumstances beyond our control, my friend and I both happen to look like human fart machines. This routinely makes us targets to be blast zones for crop dustings; where a less suspect person, say FOR INSTANCE a 90-pound woman in clear heels, feels tempted to swoop in, unleash hell, and flee the scene with no one the wiser. We are gentlemen that smell neutral at worst, normally delightful. I myself normally smell wonderful, even after rigorous workouts.
However I'm not here to get anyone in trouble. These things happen. I just felt compelled to speak on behalf of people that suffer this sort of thing regularly. Aside from this episode, we had a delightful time with tremendous people, premium service, and it's safe to say it was the first time I heard the band Live played at a gentleman's club. It turns out "Throwing Copper" is a pretty decent listen after 6 Jameson and Diets.
Thank you.
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