It started with a faint gurgling in the distance. At first, we thought it was just the neighbor's cat, but as the hours passed, the gurgles grew louder and closer. The once-clear skies filled with the unmistakable stench of a thousand rotten eggs.
As the townspeople scurried for cover, a lone figure emerged from the clouds. A figure with a look of utter despair, clutching a whoopee cushion and a can of Beano. The figure was none other than our beloved Mayor, who had been hiding a secret: he was a gassy mess waiting to happen.
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