It happened on the way home from The Partner's parents' house. Apparently, they fed me something they shouldn't have. I let one loose in the midst of a car load consisting of The Partner, The Boss, Number Two, the dog, and me, the fart queen. The odor made its way back to The Boss.
"Ewww! What is that freakin' stink?" she yelled. "What is it? What's the freakin' stink?"
I tried to decide whether to laugh hysterically or to suggest that she reevaluate her word choice. Instead, I indulged the conversation. "It was me. I farted."
"Oh, so you're the freakin' stink," she said. Then, because she's nothing if not supportive: "That's okay. I still love you."