Normally I'd a dedicated vegetarian, Dining on only the finest , most succulent fruits and greenest and ripest vegetables [with the occasional grains], but last night, as we pulled into that drive through I only had eyes for that Arby's roast beef and cheddar. Yes, you sexy burger, with your smooth sticky, oozing juices...oh baby, it's enough to make any woman squirm. I would delight in the moment when that creamy cheddar cheese caressing my smooth lips. I moaned each bite, only a little, it had been so long since our last encounter. You see, since I starting seeing cucumber, the pleasure hasn't been quite the same.
I delighted in our exchange of satisfactions last night. I really did.
Yet, a few hours later, I noticed something wasn't quite right, my stomach began to quiver and erupt in defiance. A string of horrendously putrid farts that smelled like spoiled eggs and rotting death filled the small area in which I was confined into and severely offended the people that surrounded me. I felt as if I was about to pass out from the methane fumes that ingloriously eeked from the asscheeks of Satan. I was throughly embarrassed and attempted to hold it in, but to my dismay they somehow emcased themselves in invisible fart bubbles and continued to flow from my ass and to the front of my labia and pop each time a took a simple, mortifying step. I quickly left the elevator as the bubbles got louder. Some of the poor souls were left to suffocate in the hellish stink of the elevator and nearly pissed themselves laughing, quickening the process.
I made it to the ladies room and quickly entered the stall just as one came from no where triggering a simultaneous shart that lasted for about six seconds, I nearly jumped off the toilet seat, grabbing the toilet paper roll and stall wall, bracing myself for the impact. I could hear some women washing their hands fall silent and listen. "Good god..."
It wasn't over, that roast beef and cheddar was about to have its revenge for having left it all those years, my stomach was not use to handling that kind of meat.
Again and again my sphincter convulsed letting out a trail of of shit that resembled fishies floating in the toilets and David Hasselhoff. The gas filling the room with a haze, killing off the flies as the banged against the window for air.