We're at the Richmond Braves game on Friday night. Bonnie goes to get some food, etc. (As a side note, the Dominics of New York kiosk, which specializes in Italian Sausages....didn't have any Italian Sausages....and wouldn't for 30 minutes.
Huh? You cook one thing and you're out of it? Huh??
Anyway, while she's gone, Rachel notices a, well, a nasty smell. Here's the conversation:
Rachel: Ooh, Dad, it smells like someone farted.
Dad: Have any idea who did it?
Rachel: It smells like someone we don't know.
It doesn't get much better than that.
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