Sam Dutch Ovens Max

Before Max could even protest, Sam had placed his rump on the side of the bed.

Phhhhhrrrrmppp

He heard Sam's fart muffled by the blankets, and once again the smell hit him immediately.

"Dude, cut it out!" Max yelled.

"Or what?" Sam said. "You gonna fight me?"

He cut another fart, an SBD, this time right on the side of Max's head. Reflexively, Max pushed him away, his hands meeting the boy's ample backside.

"You're gonna wish you hadn't done that," Sam grinned menacingly.

Suddenly, Max felt the covers lifting up around him, plunging him into darkness. And then: an explosion.

BRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTT

Trapped in a smelly prison, Max could perceive nothing but the noise of Sam's fart reverberating through the covers. The smell was unbearable, with nowhere for it to escape. Max could only lay there in horror as Sam effectively hot boxed him with his gas.

"Wait, I think there's more," Sam announced with glee.

"No, please I--" Max protested meekly under the covers, but his pleas were cut off by the sound of thunder.

PPPRRRRBT BBBrrpptt PRRRRRRBT

"Ooh!" Sam laughed. "That one was wet!"

After what felt like hours of relentless ****, Sam showed mercy.

"Hey, fart face," he taunted. "I'll let you out, but we're gonna have to establish some rules."

"Ok, ok, anything!" Max begged, delirious from the fumes he'd been inhaling for the past several minutes.

"Good," Sam said, lifting the covers.

Light returned to Max's vision as he squinted, looking around the room and breathing his first breath of fresh air.

"Now get me a beer," Sam commanded.

"...yes...ok," Max obliged, stumbling out of bed, and making his way to the crusty mini fridge filled with Budweiser, protein shakes, and Sam's long forgotten leftovers.

Sam snatched the cold one from Max's hand, took a long swig, and belched in his roommate's face.

*Buuurrrrrrp*

"Get on your hands and knees in front of the TV," Sam said. "I want to play video games."