“Oh no.” “What?” “I have to poop.” “Oh no,” the three of us say in unison. It doesn’t take long before we’re fighting for a chance to press our faces against the door opening, desperate for fresh air, gagging on the hideous stench emitting from my brother’s asshole. “Oh god,” I moan, “we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die.” “Jesus, Bobby,” Mom says, color draining from her face, “what did you eat?” “Farts! I ate farts!” he shouts atop the toilet, howling with laughter as waves of flatulence erupt beneath him. “I ate all the farts!”
