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Elevators are like the battlegrounds for the bravest of us all. You step in, press your floor, and then it happens – someone takes the elevator daredevil challenge. You can see it in their eyes; they're contemplating whether they can let it out before the doors open again. It's a high-stakes game because, let's be honest, elevators are small spaces. There's no escape. You're trapped in there with someone who just rolled the ol' olfactory dice, and you're hoping it's a safe bet. It's like playing Russian Roulette with your nostrils.
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You ever notice how sneaky a fart can be? It's like your body's secret agent, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. You could be in the middle of an important meeting, thinking your digestive system is on your side, and suddenly, there it is – the unexpected guest. And don't even get me started on those silent-but-deadlies. They're the ninjas of the bodily functions world. You don't see them coming, but you sure feel the aftermath. It's a biological stealth mode that even the most advanced military technology can't compete with.
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You know, they say that passing gas is a natural bodily function. Well, I don't know who "they" are, but I'm pretty sure "they" haven't experienced the silent symphony that can occur in an elevator. It's like, you walk in, and someone has already unleashed the beast, but you have no idea who the maestro of this olfactory orchestra is. And then there's the unspoken rule – the one who smelt it dealt it. It's like a weird game of blame tennis. You try to look casual, but everyone's secretly judging everyone else. It's a real-life whodunit, only with smells.
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There's a time and place for everything, they say. But I've come to realize that the digestive system didn't get the memo. It has its schedule, and it's not concerned about whether you're in a fancy restaurant or a quiet library. You could be on a romantic date, trying to impress someone, and suddenly your stomach decides it's the perfect time for a little performance art. It's like, "Hey, I know we're having a nice dinner, but how about a little trumpeting solo to set the mood?
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