A friend and his wife were on a trip to go scuba diving. The night before, he ate huge quantities of shrimp.
After the dive, they and some friends were packed into a Camaro
for the drive home. In the back seat, my friend began to get a bad case of gas from the shrimp he had eaten the night before. He held on bravely for what seemed like an eternity, for the sake of the other passengers. It seemed as though he was expanding like a balloon, ready to bust. Finally, he decided he could take no more and was about to tell the driver to pull over, or even find a restroom (you know how these things can turn unexpectedly nasty.) Suddenly, a dog darts in front of their car and they slam on the brakes. Too late for the dog (and my friend,) as the dog is crushed under the wheels and killed instantly (while my friend simultaneously releases his burden.)
The carnage and the smell were unbearable. My friend was very embarrassed, but the horrible death of that poor animal seemed to completely override any concerns anyone had about my friend's accidental expenditure. Everyone was so distraught about the dog, they seemed not to notice.
As people started to come to grips with what had happened and
calm down a bit, one girl began spilling her emotions about how the dog had met such a gruesome fate.
"You could hear the bones crunching," she wept. "The blood and guts were unbelievable." Everyone agreed.
"But the worst thing of all, worse than the blood, guts and bones crunching...the most horrible thing was the smell of death!