Is it "Stanky Leg" or "Skanky Leg?"

http://www.kappit.com/tag/short-old-jokes/

So it was...that four good friends gathered on the veranda of a fine old inn nestled in the forest to enjoy one of the last few precious evenings of Fall. Hot toddies were ordered and the women settled in for an enjoyable hour or so of intellectual discourse rivaling the sophistication of the great literary salons of the seventeenth century. Let's take a moment and join them...shall we?

"So there I was, riding my unsaddled donkey, when he takes off like a shot," shared Pat, "Naturally, I realized there was only one thing for me to do." "What," her friends asked, transfixed. "I leaped off and hoped I wouldn't break my ass," she concluded, shuddering at the memory.

Bruised tail-bones weren't the only injuries incurred...cerebral bullying caused one member to experience soul-sapping damage to her ego when she was the only one NOT to have heard the miraculous tale of the swallows of Capistrano. "Of course you've heard about it," Geri snapped, sipping her toddy, "EVERYBODY has heard of it." "Yes...yes," Sandy and Pat agreed demurely. I...er, uh...Amy just sat silently, stirring her toddy, convinced that all the amaretto had simply sunk to the bottom.

"You know how to get healthy hydrangeas to grow in this area," intoned Sandy as the four friends admired the inn's finally-fading flowers. I rolled my eyes...oops...Amy rolled her eyes but was unable to close her ears to hear, "You plant nails in the soil." Great, Amy thought, signaling the waiter for another dose of butterscotch schnapps to strengthen her toddy, there's another piece of useless knowledge that's permanently gummed up in my brain...next to the stupid swallows.

After listening to Geri drone on for fifteen minutes about her profound relationship with her sitting room spider, Pat broke in with another helpful tidbit about the healing properties of spider webs. "What," I said, staring glumly at my now empty glass, leaving the obvious TF off my question. Pat eagerly clarified. "Well, occasionally, when I trim my goat's hoof too close, I'll simply grab some webbing from around the barn and attach it to the wound." I stared at her dumbly...Well, aren't you just a regular flippin'' Martha Stewart of the barnyard. Startled, I looked around quickly. Did I say that out-loud?

We concluded our elegant evening of witty repartee discussing our grade level's Halloween "flash mob" to be performed on Friday. Eager to learn some of the moves, the women coaxed me...uh...Amy to demonstrate. As our portico was empty, I complied...showing them the complicated maneuvering of the Duff...the Bop...the Whip with its accompanying Nae Nae...the Break-Your-Leg and finally...the Stanky Leg. "Stanky Leg," Geri yelled, hitting palm to forehead, "I've been calling it the Skanky Leg." Suddenly, in mid-Stank, the porch fell silent. "What's wrong," I...nope, make that...Amy asked, slowly following her friends's frozen stares into the window of the inn where guests had been enjoying an unexpected dinner show. It was time for our four good friends to finally depart...and so we shall say, farewell.