Mr Charlie has some kind of dead animal decomposition bio-reactor installed in his rear end -
- and it frequently emits the foulest stenches ever to have wrought havoc upon the innocent receptors of the mammalian nose. Of late, however, I have trained him.

He now goes into the hallway to make his gaseous utterances when they are due, but unfortunately this does not always work. So viscous are his farts that they are brought in behind him when he returns to the room, as if still attached to his anus by a bungee cord. And there they will bounce around, searing nostrils and teasing uvulas for a good three minutes or so.

I recall there was one night before his training had begun, when I had partially drifted off to sleep beside my love and he 'let one go'. This might have been fine, if his bum gas had been sealed beneath the covers and I already unconscious, but sadly the eye-burning fumes had raised the duvet enough for the effluvium to be liberated. To compound matters, it was the middle of the summer, and there was a fan switched on to blow directly at the bed. Instead of blasting the horrors away, the airflow merely trapped the defilement in the air above our heads, and it proceeded to rain its toxic fallout upon us. An open Dutch Oven, if you will.

I still remember how my eyes watered in a vain effort to protect themselves from the acid breeze, my stomach tried to eject everything it still held from the meal I had consumed not three hours previously, and my throat tightened from some sort of inflammatory, asthmatic reaction. No amount of window or door flapping would free me of the air-borne sewage, and all the while Mr Charlie lay in my bed giggling as if he had planned this with the devil and now shared his mirth with the creature at his shoulder.

I have since tried revenge bottom belches, but the worst flavour I can come up with is roast chicken, and I simply cannot produce it in the same volumes as he :( No one ever talks about the glass ceiling of flatulence, or how vile your gut needs to be to shatter it.
( Yo 'Ho of Charlie mass-market saucetrepreneur, Fri 17 Jan 2014, 15:36, 6 replies)

GAH!
This story has given me flashbacks to last summer where I too was subject to fan assisted ass gas attacks.

Nasty.
( e.m.m.y. foxtrot uniform charlie kilo india tango, Fri 17 Jan 2014, 15:47, closed)

Does fan assistance mean that
the guff smells like it is approximately 20°c hotter?
(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Fri 17 Jan 2014, 15:50, closed)

I read this twice before realising you weren't talking about a pet

( rofl harris, Fri 17 Jan 2014, 15:57, closed)

He is a bit furry in places.

( Yo 'Ho of Charlie mass-market saucetrepreneur, Fri 17 Jan 2014, 15:58, closed)

Charcoal pills?

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 17 Jan 2014, 16:14, closed)

This sounds exactly like something my girlfriend would say about me
have a click
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Mon 20 Jan 2014, 16:22, closed)