Think for a minute about the absolute worst thing possible. It's not selling your great-Grandma's dagger collection or breaking up with a priest or anything. No. I encountered, but did not participate in, the exact act of complete and total worstness.
I was outside a McDonalds in a busy thoroughfare and some guy next to me straight farted with audibility.
I'll give you a damn minute.
Or two.
It was the total worst thing. You got the greasy, industrial meat microwaving smell, mixed with actual car-induced methane, and then person induced methane intermingling. Whoa! It was intense and uncalled for.
Not like a suicide Coke. Not like a handful of Jelly-Bellies. Not like a Tampon variety pack.
No...it was like a pot-luck of smelly, nasty nuances. Like if your company had a Anglo-East African-Scottish-Lebanese themed potluck and then drenched everything in day-old mayonnaise and washed it down with a nice Tahitian Treat.
It wasn't right.
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