TOM - What is that smell? Gas?
DICK - He who smelt it, delt it!
TOM - I ain’t playing cards, not now, not with that stink hovering. I can’t breathe.
DICK - No Tom, my little flatuent toon, it means you’re a little fart monster.
TOM - But I didn’t.
DICK - Well you must ‘ave. The saying isn’t just a saying, it’s the law. You wouldn’t want to go to prison and get raped by Mr Big in the shower over a botto burp.
TOM - But nothing came out of my bottom.
DICK - You may think that but it’s because the potency is so great it acted as an anesthesia for yer bottom hole so that you couldn’t feel nothing.
TOM - Or …
DICK - Or what?
TOM - You dunnit.
DICK - Tom, I think it’s time you said hello to my little frying pan.