Joe turns the tables.

"Alright alright, be cool. I know when I'm beat" Joe sighed annoyedly. He slowly raised his hands with his palms outturned before rolling onto his stomach and placing them behind his back with his plump rear end jutting up into the air. He was no stranger to this situation, that much Texas could tell. She reached to her side to retrieve her lasso so she could properly subdue the brute. As she approached him, a low gurgling noise gave her a start. She had fought enough gaseous lawbreakers to realize what it was. Her fears were confirmed as Joe let out a low groan,

"Might wanna hurry, love..." he warned as he closed his eyes. "It ain't good for me to be layin' on me stomach after I've been drinkin...'"

In a panic, Texas rushed forward to hogtie the hitman before he really let loose. Just as she looped the rope around his wrists, a boisterous fart escaped his stomach and sent her sprawling onto her back. "Sorry bout that, sheila. I... ugh..." Joe trailed off from his apology as he let loose another thunderous blast of gas, enveloping the poor weasel in a cloud of horrid smells. It went on for several minutes without a moment of pause, blast after blast of noxious fumes directly into Texas' face. It wasn't the worst she had endured but the dingo far outclassed her previous foes in regards to the amount of gas he produced. There just didn't seem to be an end to it.

Texas coughed and wheezed, her hands instinctively grasping onto her nose as she tried in vain to crawl for safety. 'How in tarnation did get this gassy from two drinks!?' she thought in bewilderment. 'Power on through it... he's gotta run out eventually...'

It took three long hellacious minutes for Joe to finally run out of gas, with the dingo letting out a satisfied sigh as he stood up to his feet and brushed himself off. "Eh, that's what I get for scarfing down fifty meat pies before a fight..." he muttered as he patted his gut. Despite all the gas he had let loose, it didn't appear any less bulbous. He turned around and raised a brow at the lingering miasma that he had created. It completely enveloped the ruins of the flower shop and one could be forgiven for assuming that it was the cause for its destruction. The only question in his mind was, how did his opponent take to his unintentional attack? He fanned the fumes away as he walked forward in search of a presumably **** Texas.