The International Fart Queen's Reign of Gas and Punishment
Ariel, the International Fart Queen, glared at Jack across his studio. She was seated on a plush chair, her legs crossed and hands folded in her lap. Jack, on the other hand, felt like a deer caught in headlights.
"Alright, Ariel," Jack began nervously, "tell us about your latest tour. We hear you've been traveling the world with your farts."
Ariel's eyes narrowed, and Jack could feel her annoyance radiating off of her. "Well, Jack, I've been traveling the world with my farts for years now. It's not just some new gimmick." Her tone was icy.
"No, of course not," Jack stammered, trying to recover from his idiotic question. "I just meant..."
But before he could finish his sentence, Ariel cut him off. "Don't you think it's time you actually did some research before you interview people?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Jack felt his face redden with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking down at his notes. He knew he had messed up, and now he was paying the price.
Suddenly, Ariel let out a deep, rumbling fart. The smell of rotten eggs and sulfur filled the studio, causing Jack to gag. "That's for your idiotic questions," Ariel said, unphased by the stench.
Jack coughed, trying to clear his throat. "I-I understand," he managed to choke out. "Let's move on to something else."
But Ariel wasn't finished yet. She let out another fart, this one even louder and more pungent than the first. Jack felt his eyes watering as the stench filled his nostrils. "That's for your poor research skills," Ariel said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.
By the end of the interview, Jack felt like he had been through a war zone. His clothes reeked of Ariel's farts, and his face was beet red from embarrassment. As he walked her out, he couldn't help but wonder if he had just ruined his career.
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