"Hey Space Ghost, you think you could give me some jeans for me?" Malon asked as she was still farting up a storm of bassy deep pitched tuba poots.
"Why? So you can shit your pants on my show?" Space Ghost grumbled as he had his arms folded, getting quite annoyed by Malon's stinky predicament.
"Ooh, are you psychic or something, mister ghost of space?" Malon gasped as she held her hands together giddily, still farting as most girls in these stories would, her dress having an embarrassingly giant brown stain on the back of it, with it being blown up by her bassy poots. "My dream would to be have all sorts of neat clothing that look tight! They would make the perfect toilet for me to do my farty business in!"
"Yeah I'm sure they would." Space Ghost stated sarcastically as he munched on some hot prime steak he grabbed from under his desk. "Y'know, cows always provide a wondrous taste. I kind of wonder why."
"Because they make such wonderful smells!" Malon laughed as she wafted her own flatulence, enjoying it. "Peeyew! I'm loving this stinky smell of mine! Pee diddly yew!"
"Yeah, thanks for not making it obvious to all the viewers out there, Fartina." Space Ghost mumbled as he was eating the stake, gulping down as he took a glance around, wondering where the script for the story was so that he could change it for the better. "I would ask you if you are getting enough oxygen, but with all the disgusting methane your fatass fart factory is pumping out, maybe I shouldn't bother. It seems that you have quite enough."
Malon just shrugged as she placed her hands on her farting big butt, cranking out more pooping poots as she was enjoying her smelly gas blasts a bit too much, with Space Ghost continuing to shrug it off and eat steak in spite of the cows' presence on Malon's gassy side.