"Dylan and I have a farting match in about an hour," Stinky answered.
"Really?" Sam asked confused. "Didn't you already have one last week?"
"Nah, that was a prank war, remember?" Stinky said. "You were involved in it."
"Oh yeah..." Sam recalled, before clarifying, "But if it's so soon, why are you here, telling me now?"
"Well," Stinky said tapping her finger against her chin, "Dylan said that he had a secret weapon this time, and I don't think I need to remind you how close he came to beating me before."
The two grimaced, remembering how before, Dylan hit her with a surprise burp to the face, knocked her to the ground with his bubble gut, then proceeded to sit on her back, pinning her down as he farted on her with some of the worst gas he ever had.
Had she not propelled herself from under him with a fart so sudden that it stunned him, Stinky would've lost to her long time rival.
"So you want me to referee again?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, if it ain't too much trouble" Stinky replied. "Just in case we get too carried away again."
"Alright - But, weren't your parents were pretty mad that match lasted for as long as it did?" Sam asked.
"Don't remind me..." Stinky grumbled, remembering how she got grounded for "being excessively rude," at least according to her mom.
"Well, in any case, try not to do that again. So, what exactly is the match, anyway?" Sam asked.
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