Talking about bad smells made me remember a story from my youth. This was before the internet, when kids would also just sit around and talk when there was nothing better to do. The topics of discussion could be girls or which one of us had the most armpit hair. Inevitably the conversation will always move to farts with teenage boys. Back then the rage was that if you farted, you had to yell 'Buck Safety' or your friends could punch you in the arm.

There was four of us sitting in the basement and a few of us were particularly gassy that night. I had just finished off one of those old school glass bottles of Sprite. One of us had the bright idea of whenever anyone had to fire off a stink torpedo, we would hold the bottle up to our butt and play the buttock bassoon. After your turn you had to hold your thumb over the bottle to prevent the evil from escaping. This went on for hours and all of us contributed to the vile collection of flatulence.

After we finished talking about girls, armpit hair, and making prank calls I decided to just take a small whiff of the bottle. Big mistake. It smelled worse than Satan's bunghole after eating a whole plate of asparagus. I immediately threw the bottle across the room to get the stink grenade as far away as possible. My friend didn't believe me that it was that bad and decided to make the same fateful mistake. The others were not man enough to smell the horrible bottle of poofume.