“God, Grayson! What the hell! Was that you? Again?”
“Yeah… sorry.” He groans, sitting up on the cushions of his wicker sofa — his stomach coddled in the palm of his left hand. “My stomach’s still feeling funny… had to let that one out.”
“Another silent killer? Fuck! Give me a warning before you let loose like that. Open the patio doors, and let that shit out… or you’re gonna kill me in here.”
“C’mon… it’s not that bad.”
“Yeah it is. You smell like hot garbage and sewer water. That’s totally uncalled for.”
Amused by your oddly specific association, he lets out a smug chuckle. “Really? Is it that bad?”
“Yeah. Really”
“C’mon. Be honest. You know you like it. You tell me all the time how much you love my stink… how manly you think it is. Thought I was turning you on.”
“Yeah… I like the way you smell sometimes… but not your farts. When have you ever heard me say anything like “Wow, Gray, that fart was so sexy?” Nobody says that. I like your musty armpits, dude… your belly button… your swampy ass toes… but not your raunchy guts.”
“You’ve said that at least a few times before… I know it.”
“Give me one example… a single time I said something even remotely similar to that.”
He closes his eyes, and lets his head fall back — trying to come up with a scenario. “Well… you’re the one who made that bet at breakfast… and now, I’m all bloated, and full of gas. I gotta let it out, don’t I?” Shooting a devious grin your way, he pushes out his stomach, as if he’s pregnant with twin food-babies, and gives his rounded gut a rub.
“Okay, fatass… but you could at least have some decency. Why do I have to smell you?”
“You lost the bet, like I said… and now you gotta smell my stinky farts. Only fair the loser suffers… ‘specially since you talked so much shit earlier. Anyway, you like the way I smell, so you’re not losing much, are you?”
“For the last time, Grayson, I’m not into your farts.”
“Really? Cuz I’ve been farting my ass off, like a fucking pig, since this morning… fogging up the windows and shit… and you’ve been sitting in my stink cloud for the last two hours, breathing it in.” The evil smile still smeared across his face, he rises up from his seat, and waddles his way over to the back door. “You love that shit… you know you do. You’ve fully gone from sniffing my pits, shoving your nose between my toes, and going nostrils-deep in my fuckin’ belly button, to smelling my sour farts… like a creepy weirdo.”
“Whatever… I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“You’re right… you don’t. I’m not gonna stop gassing any time soon, and you’re not gonna get up… so we both get something out of it. My stomach’ll feel better… and you get your sick kicks.”
“Pffft…” You huff, fed up with his disgusting antics. “Whatever.”
“Hold on… I think I got another one in the chamber. FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!”
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