Farty

I'm so fucking flatulent tonight that I probably contributed to global warming. I'm so flatulent that Shell tried to gain the rights to my "natural gas" fields. I'm so flatulent that my ass-cheeks are now permanently blown apart. I'm so flatulent that when I sit down, my friends think I'm a yogi because I float on a cushion of stinky acrid garlic-tinged air every few seconds. I'm so flatulent tonight that I could probably use the shorts I'm wearing tonight in place of chloroform to kidnap people. I'm so flatulent that the makan-place I visited tonight probably lost all it's customers. I'm so flatulent that the doors of my apartment are bulging outwards. I'm so flatulent that my blanket is now brown-coloured, I'm so flatulent that flies have gathered around me and then died in the thousands from the stench. I'm so flatulent that my neighbours are probably coughing in their sleep, dreaming of garlic. I'm so flatulent that they should hire me to fill balloons.

Mahai. What the fuck is happening to me?!?!?!