The Saturday Seagull

Day three of the "When are going to fart Mr. Welker?" saga. Since they told me it might be one and out (leaving on Friday), I thought this might be the day...the day to push the limits of farterhood.

But alas, it was not. When I take a walk and then sit on the throne, I am reminded of the rhyme that I will not repeat...'Here I sit broken-hearted, I couldn't poop, and never farted. So then I stood to take a chance...didn't do either...not soiling my pants."

Again, the cough is mt biggest problem, A constant cough that affects my sleep, and when I do cough...it just rattles my small incisions. I always hate to talk about pain, because we can't compare each other's pain...but it don't feel good.

Perhaps on the morrow,