Everyone to the bomb shelters! Batten the hatches! Run for cover!
Gio has gas!
Holy stink-much, Batman! Something obviously isn't sitting right with the G-Man. I think it may have been a bit too much beef heart yesterday, or something. But Gio has some crazy death gas today. The menu for this evening was originally the remainder of the beef heart and some chicken backs, but I decided to forgo that option in lieu of some green tripe. Oh, please almighty green tripe! Work your miracles and cease this horrible stench!
Of course, typical male, Gio is quite proud of his flatulence. Even to go so far as to wander over to where you are before letting a particularly ripe one free. Then looking at you as if to say, "Nice one, eh?! Bet you wish you could do that well."
No, Gio, my boy. When I happen to do "that well", I vacate the property with my face hidden in shame.
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