The Smell of the Jungle
Imported from SF2 with no description.
It seemed like any other day in the Jungle, and Mowgli roamed around, looking for someone. As it turned out, a rather mean gopher has been insulting one of Sheba's cubs. They were close friends ever since he helped her and her children. Ironically, Sheba was a tiger, and it didn't help that most of the Jungle was afraid of her kin. It didn't matter to Mowgli; Unlike Shere Khan, Sheba knew he has neither man's guns nor man's fire. At least, not yet anyways, and she's willing to let him live based on that. Not to mention, Mowgli helped her and her kids; It was fair that they were buds.
Before long, Mowgli came to the gopher's home. And by luck, said gopher was inside. "Well well," snarked the rodent, "never thought I'd see you, Mowgli." "Yeah, you know me," Mowgli replied, "and I don't exactly care much for how you treated one of Sheba's children." "He deserved it!" the gopher snapped, "All tigers are the same as Shere Khan. You can't trust them; No one even knows what they plan to do to you when your back is turned." While Mowgli could very well remember the tiger who tried to kill him, he knew Sheba was nothing like him at all.
"That may be so," he said, "but I won't tolerate your behavior towards my friends." Then, upon hearing his stomach gurgle, a slight smirk crossed his face. "I think someone should teach you some manners." Soon enough, Mowgli turned around, squatted, then backed his loincloth-clad bottom into the hole. This left the gopher indignant. "Hey, what's going on?" He was about to find out; no more than 3 seconds later, Mowgli grunted and pushed. "Prrrrt!" What followed was a rather loud, trumpeting noise which preceded a foul stink. "Did he just...?!" the Gopher thought, and as if Mowgli could hear, he looked back and said, "Oh yeah, I just pooted." The smell was intense, and all the gopher could do was hold his nose.
Obviously, Mowgli wasn't done. "Frrrrt~!" Again, he farted. This time, it was a bit higher in pitch. "I can't believe my luck..." groaned the gopher. Mowgli, on the other hand, was feeling rather proud of himself. "Whew, boy," he said, "I've been holding that in all day." But to the gopher's dismay, he still wouldn't leave yet. "Oh no," he told him, "I've got plenty more for you." And he sure did; for nearly six minutes, Mowgli blasted the gopher's home with a barrage of his stinky butt gas. Some of the farts were wetter than the last, others smellier. The gopher was in agony from the smell, and Mowgli was in bliss from the relief.
Then it seemed like Mowgli was about to take his leave. At first, the gopher was relieved, he couldn't stand anymore of the smell. But Mowgli knew that those blasts weren't enough, and he had one more coming. "You're still standing in there, aren't ya?" he called, "You must be enjoying this." To the gopher's shock, Mowgli began to strip down, taking off his loincloth. He returned to his previous position against the hole. This time, he had nothing but his naked butt plugging up the gopher's door. "How about a sniff at the source?" Mowgli teased, and with a good hard grunt, he farted for 19 seconds; a big, bubbly bottom blast that seemed to shake the mountain of dirt the gopher called home. The gopher then fainted from the smell, and Mowgli offered one final, squeaky poot as his "parting gift".
A bit of his gas made it to his nostrils after he got back up. "Shoo-ie," he chuckled, "That must've been really bad." Mowgli felt accomplished as he put on his loincloth again; the gopher got what he deserved. "I hope I don't catch you hurting others like that again, or I might come back with more." With that, Mowgli left the gopher's home, which now stank of his flatulent toots. The gopher has indeed learned his lesson, but for now, he'll have to endure the big stink the man-cub has unleashed.