Last Christmas, I had the perfect fart cockail- a huge bacon and cheese omelette with fried potatoes for breakfast, and roast beef with mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, stuffing, and lots of gravy. We were at my Aunt's house for dinner in South Jersey, and on the ride home I started cutting the thickest, most vicious farts I could remember. The farts were so thick, you could taste them. When I let the first one go, my dad, brother and sister (who were all in the car) all cursed me out and put down their windows, despite the fact it was around 20 degrees outside.
After this first fart, the rest of the car ride home went like this: I would roll down my window preemptively, as I had been told to do. My brother and sister would immediately scream, cover their faces with their sweatshirts, and roll down their windows. My dad, who was driving and could not cover his face, would just start screaming "OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT!" over and over again, with a look on his face like someone was aggressively trying to braind his gooch hairs. All the while I would rip another of this cloud-like bombs, and laugh away like a drunk, toothless old man. I wish I had power like this every day.
Ok, my roomate fell asleep on my living room floor, so I'm gonna go fart on his head.
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