They say silent farts are the deadliest—and I took that as a challenge. So I went out with one mission: drop the silent bombs… and waft them toward innocent bystanders.
Armed with nothing but my stomach, stealth, and a firm flick of the hand, I hit the streets like a biological menace. Grocery aisles, elevators, park benches—no place was safe.
The key is timing. You sneak up, let it out (gently), and give it one strategic wave toward your target. And then? You walk away like nothing happened… while watching chaos unfold.
One lady sniffed the air, paused, and said, “Oh no… what IS that?”
A guy near the frozen food section legit blamed his kid. “Buddy, say excuse me!”
At the bus stop, I dropped one and walked past. The woman sitting there looked at the empty bench next to her like it had betrayed her.
It’s not the volume that gets them—it’s the mystery. The slow realization. The fear in their eyes when they can’t identify the source. That’s when you know the waft has landed.
No sounds. No warning. Just pure, invisible chaos.
This is elite prank level. It’s not just juvenile humor—it’s gas-powered psychology.
By the end of the day, I had people gagging, blaming each other, and even moving to different sections of stores. All from one person… me. The silent assassin.
