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Flatulence, a word I am all too familiar with. My inspiration for this is born from growing up with two older brothers, who used to pin me down and fart on my head, and two of my roommates, Joey and Wes. This essay is dedicated to all little sisters and roommates that wear clothespins on their noses. In attempting to define the word “flatulence”, we must first ask ourselves: Why hasn’t a weapon been developed upon the flatulence of man? Why do people continue to spray air freshener in the toilet despite making the stench worse? I can only speculate, but this may just well be the nature of man. Males, when it comes to flatulence, are undoubtedly the dominant species. They are the masters of “dropping their lunch”, “letting it rip”, or whatever you prefer to call it. Don’t you just love it when somebody lets out a fart right in your proximity? The little fart particles are like mini F18 Interceptors, flying through the air and targeting your nasal passages. They lock on, and fire those M15 Stink missiles right up there and then you’re your own worst enemy. You breathe in and suck someone else’s foul gas into your own lungs. Someone “dropping their lunch” is like a dog marking their territory insi