When I was waiting for the #26 bus this morning, I felt a tightening in my I went through my mental check list. No nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, or was something else. After my initial research I deduced that it was a fart. And not just any fart. By the speed at which my stomach tightened (along with the fact that I ate Wendys the night before) I knew it was going to be a hot, meaty, putrid fart. A ghastly air biscuit who's smell would be on par with a really old zombie dying then taking a dump after it died. I looked around the bus stop. The gentle roar of passing traffic provided noise cancellation and a stiff tailwind was ready to steer my rancid bottom burp into no man's land. Conditions were ideal. I smiled a little as it came out. Sweet guilt-free freedom.

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