In 7th or 8th grade
I was sitting in my French class. It was the last class of the day, and I was utterly bored. I hadn't eaten lunch that day, and was feeling rather worse for it, as well as it being much too hot and one of the last weeks of the school year. For some reason, my French teacher had all the windows closed anyway, which she soon regretted. Sitting in my corner of the room at my desk, I felt a little bit of a fart beginning to brew up in me. Thinking naught of it, I just let it slip out. Sadly for those in the class, it was one of the silent and deadly sorts. Absolutely vile. I was sitting there, trying to hold a straight face as more and more of my classmates smelled it and expressed their displeasure. Even the teach was looking around trying to figure out who it was.

I finally lost it when I heard the teacher in the next room down the hall ask who farted and threatened them with detention if they ever did one so bad again. As soon as I heard that through the open door, I started laughing like a loon and all my classmates instantly knew who'd done it.
( Ithyphallophobia, Sat 5 Jun 2010, 7:57, Reply)