Three little old people were sitting on a bench in a quaint park, basking in the warm afternoon sun. They were lifelong friends who had known each other since their school days, and their weekly gatherings at the park had become a cherished tradition. Today was no different. The park was bustling with activity: children playing, birds chirping, and families enjoying picnics. Amidst this lively scene, the three friends began their usual chat.
“Me,” said the first, a sprightly old gentleman named Harold, adjusting his spectacles with a chuckle, “when I fart, it makes a lot of noise, but there’s no smell. It’s like a trumpet with no fanfare.”
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