Okay, who farted?
I want to know!
Now!
Whoever smelt it
dealt it,
and I sure didn’t,
even though I’m nearly gagging.
You think it’s funny?
Well, how about this,
funny man?
The passage of flatulence
comes with consequences.
You could accidentally set yourself on
fire.
Babies could suffocate.
The whole moral fiber of the world
could collapse…
In an instant!
Do you want to live in a world
smelling of nothing but
stale flatulence?
NOTHING BUT!
Mr. Ozone sure doesn’t
like you, as every trumpet blast
burns
(Hear that? BURNS!)
him away.
Can you hear him screaming?
“Why, Jesus? WHY?
Why are people farting?
Why do they think it’s funny?
Who do they think they’re
fooling?
Me?”
Just think about them apples,
funny man.
Nobody died, so you
don’t have to salute them.
Don’t eat the beans
if you can’t handle them.
Don’t give me that malarky about
the cows.
They go moo.
You do not.
Understand?
Now go clean up
your room.
It smells in there.
