Edgar Marsalla, laid this terrific fart. It was a very crudething to do, in chapel and all, but it was also quite amusing. Old Marsalla. He damn nearblew the roof off.
I'd only read about three pages, though, when I heard somebody coming through the shower curtains. Even without looking up, I knew right away who it was. It was Robert Ackley, this guy that roomed right next to me.
He always walked around in his bare torso because he thought he had a damn good build.