This is almost certainly true. Ballads are written about the great dry odiferous winds that emanate from your nether regions. Mothers frighten their children into eating otherwise inedible vegetables by threatening them with your suffocating fumes. The Geneva Convention precludes the use of your gaseous miasma in war time.
Forensic anthropologists must be forgiven if they somehow mistake your ass for a deep sea vent, for the rumblings and chemical mixtures produced are nearly identical.
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Mister Thing has hidden under the couch.
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Fortunately, it was over pretty quick.
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Forensic anthropologists must be forgiven if they somehow mistake your ass for a deep sea vent, for the rumblings and chemical mixtures produced are nearly identical.