When one begins the day at Waffle House, continues by eating large quantities of smoked meats, and imbibes sufficient alcohol, they become the villain known as the Chattanooga Crop Duster. The lowered inhibition from the blood alcohol level and fermentation of the meat in the belly turns even the most lawful good character into a gaseous gangster, venting their gastrointestinal malaise for all to smell as they skip down the sidewalk in search of more ribs, beer, and/or hash browns.
My buddy G went down south and enjoyed the grease, barbecue, and libations so much he morphed into the Chattanooga Crop Duster. I thought I smelled a natural gas leak, but it was just him ripping ass.
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