OK, here’s one (fairly mild)! As I’ve posted in another thread, I’ve recently had a bout with diverticulitis and was put on a clear liquid diet and antibiotics. I was allowed the occasional protein drink. I learned a lesson that week–when on a liquid diet and antibiotics, NEVER assume it’s just gas!
I’m having one in two weeks–I’ll have to let y’all know if I have similar results! 
Amateurs.
My wife has Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Of an evening, our house can smell like everything from asparagus to corn nuts.
She’ll let one out, and then about 10 seconds later I’ll hear “Hmm… picante!”
Then I know fear.
Bah. Amateurs. For truly monumental flatuence, hang out with homebrewers. Active yeast+spicy food= :eek:
One year at the Las Vegas Winterfest, a group of us were standing on the corner outside the Plaza hotel downtown, waiting for the light to change. We had been drinking and judging homebrew since 9am. Now, at 6pm, on a windy night, Dennis lets one rip. It sent the people across the street fleeing into a casino! He cleared a windy intersection!
A few years ago, a friend and I had to drive about 4 hours to a small town in NE Montana called Malta (we were living in Billings at the time) to pick up another friend who was coming over from Portland, Or, on the train. It was just before Christmas, and a very cold pre-Christmas at that (temps in the -10 to -20 range all day).
Malta is an incredibly boring town if you’re not from there. We got there at noon, hung over as hell, expecting to be out of there no later than 1:30 or 2pm. But the train was delayed. So after bowling, doing some christmas shopping, getting both of our hairs cut (what is the plural of haircut anyways?) at the only barbershop in town, and all sorts of creative ways to waste time in a small town where we don’t know anyone, we sat down in the Stockman’s Bar where they just happened to be holding a chilli sale for charity.
Evil idea almost simultaneously arrives in both our heads - we will punish wayward friend (and girlfriend) with poison gas treatment in the four-hour return journey when they finally arrive by driving through Central Montana in the middle of winter after eating tons of chilli, drinking many light beers, eating pickled eggs and beef jerky, and finally the coup de grace - pizza with red onions, gorgonzola and feta cheese!
Only problem in our nefarious plan was that the train didn’t arrive until nearly midnight, so we were all gassed out by then (although we did our level best to poison the air in the Stockman’s). So wayward friend and girlfriend just had to deal with two surly curs who had to spend all day in the Stockman’s eating bad food on a hangover, although there were a couple of noxious squeakers let loose in the car journey home.
The Stockman’s bar, the barber shop, and the shop where we did our Christmas shopping (all shared the same building) burned to the ground two weeks later. I won’t say it was related, but let you judge that for yourself.
Remember the old sayings, for they are true:
We took another elevator. :eek:
The human female, due to a physiological anomaly, rarely farts. It seems that they can’t keep their mouth shut long enough to build the appropriate back pressure…
Oh, you are so going to hell for that one.
searches for a big pot of refried beans to chow down…
“God alone knows how many times our bellies, by the refusal of one single far, have brought us to the door of an agonizing death.”
The Master speaks on whether suppressing farts endangers one’s health.