Your name is Evil Tony. You are sitting downstairs watching TV. Your front door is slightly open, because you have just let a fat one rip. The fart scent has flown into the stratosphere, because you have such a Thicc ass. You would, naturally, as your passion is exercise. You squat regularly. All of a sudden, you hear a sniffing noise. You hear a howl which resembles the sound of someone taking a crap inside a concert hall. The unknown creature, with huge leaps and bounds, reaches your porch. You turn around in response to the shadow it has generated. It has wet shit dripping from the front of its snout; oh no, it's the Fart-Wolf! It has huge clapping ass-cheeks and its claws and fangs look like rolled up toilet paper; nevertheless, the paper is sharp enough to slice your skin. You realize that its only purpose in life is to fart on people. It has already heavily farted on your downstairs neighbor. The noise he made was the same as when you let a rip in his basement. > You try dominance over the Fart-Wolf by turning around and farting on its head with your mighty asscheeks. The Fart-Wof takes control of your ass cheeks and rips them apart, using them as its own ass cheeks. It farts on you so hard that sparks come out of your ripped asshole. You have a secret weapon, you break out your lighter and toss it all the fart wolf, who ignites in a fiery gassy blaze. It doesn't stop farting though. It keeps on farting until it farts itself out of existence. You've won this battle, but your ass is torn to pieces, and you are heavily burned. You level up, you gain the following thickness related powers: Air-rifle Butt, Great ass-cheeks, and Third-Eye Gas. You look up to the sky and say, "Some mother fuckers always trying to ice skate uphill." You hear the faint voice of your ass saying, "thank you." You sit there wondering why your ass has a Canadian accent until you realize it's because of all the maple syrup you shoved up there. > You ask ass for advice. The ass says, "watch out kid, or else the fat man will put you in his belly, and you'll be eaten." You ask you ass, "Who is the fat man?" Your ass responds, "Nobody really knows, some people think its the government." Your ass says, "others think its the mayor." Your ass says, "but most think its Santa Clause." > You gather your weapons and head for the North Pole. You head for the North Pole. In your haste, you have forgotten the Air-rifle butt. You reach the pole with haste and see a large Santa Clause looking creature, stuffing babies into his mouth. You see a sarcophagus buried in the snow, you open it and inside is Good Cory, a pure-hearted mummy. You take Good Cories Rib bone and use it to stab Santa Clause in the eyes. He screams horribly, but his fat ass falls on you, squashing you like a tin can. > You use your ass-a-pult powers to launch Santa off of you. You fire the ass-a-pult, and it slingshots Santa into the sun. You then die of suffocation under hundreds of pounds of flesh. An angry elf approaches you. He revives you and tells you that you have to deliver the presents. You are surprised to find yourself in a fluffy, white room with nothing but a desk and a chair. On the desk is a large stack of gifts and Good Cories ribcage. You volunteer to deliver presents to all the children of the world. Your job is to fill the ribcage of Good Cory with the spirit of Christmas. > You using dark Elvin magic, you summon the spirit of Christmas. You reach into the ribcage and take out a small glowing ball of light. It flies around you, filling you with the passion and love of Christmas. You are over-whelmed by the sheer joy of Christmas. You see a present under the tree and has your name on it, you open it up and see it's an official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time. You are surprised to find that it is the rifle from this very movie. You see another present, with the tag "From Santa", and open and see it is a: A) Pony B) Hot Wheels C) Barbie dream Car D) American Girl Doll You choose the Barbie dream Car and do donuts in the artic. After reaching 200 shots, you decide to head home. You arrive home and find the entire family dead. > You find a note on the floor. It reads, "Fart, fart, fart." Sincerely, The Fart-Wolf. You scream at the top of your lungs, "I HAVE FOUND THE MASTER OF FART, FARTS!" The angry elf approaches and slits your throat. You hold your throat and release the most viscious powerful paint peeling fart you have ever conjured into this world right in the elf's open gaping mouth. He falls to the ground and dies. You laugh and laugh as you walk home. The moral of the story: Farts are magical.