The only friction in their marriage was the husband's habit of farting loudly every morning when he woke. The noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air. Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it was making her sick. He told her he couldn't stop and that it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor; she was concerned that one day he would blow his guts out.
The years went by and he continued to rip them out ! Then one Thanksgiving morning as she was preparing the turkey for dinner and he was upstairs asleep, she looked at the bowl where she had put the turkey innards, neck, gizzard, liver and all the spare parts a malicious thought came to her. She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep and gently pulling back the bedcovers she pulled back the elastic waistband of his shorts and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts.
Some time later she heard her husband waken with his usual trumpeting which was followed by a blood curdling scream and the sound of frantic footsteps as he raced to the bathroom. The wife could hardly control herself as she rolled on the floor laughing, Tears in her eyes. After all the years of torture she reckoned she had got her revenge. About twenty minutes later, her husband came downstairs in his bloodstained shorts with a look of horror on his face. She bit her lip as she asked what was the matter. He said Honey, you were right. All those years you warned me and I didn't listen to you. "What do you mean," asked his wife. "Well, you alway's told me one day I would end up farting my guts out and today it finally happened. But by the grace of god, some vaseline and these two fingers, I think I got most of them back in."