After a long day’s work, sometimes all you really want is to relax on your way home.

That is, until a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers get in your way.

When this commuter got their seat stolen from under them, it set the stage for an unexpected and aromatic adventure.

Read on to find out what happened!

The Fart of War

I got on a semi-crowded train (when all the seats are taken, but there’s plenty of standing space) and at a stop, 5 consecutive seats cleared up.

My stomach wasn’t feeling so good, so I had been aching for a seat and made a beeline for one.

That’s when a group of loud teens blocked my path and started to sit down at the nearest seats.

I went around to the farthest seat, but one of the group slipped right under me and said “Excuse ME,” obnoxiously and took my seat.

Tired, and not feeling well enough to argue, I went back to leaning on the train door.

But something was a’brewin’.

Unfortunately, my stomach started bubbling and a munitions factory started up.

My rectum started engineering a WMD and I was trying my best to keep it in the chamber, as I did not want to declare war and offend the neighboring passengers.

But as the group of teens got louder and louder and annoying with their stupid, ratchet, first-world problems, (along with their rude comments about current events), I decided to undertake covert operations.

They set their plan into motion.

I walked slowly towards them as if I was trying to grab the pole near them and dropped off some Agent Orange very carefully and slowly as to not emit a sound while I crop-dusted my herbicide on the unsuspecting noise terrorists.

Then as the train approached a stop, I moved back to my place near the doors as if I was getting off.

The teens started to take notice.

The conversation started to slow as the more they talked, the more gas they inhaled.

One of them kept sniffing the air as another one made a face of revulsion.

I shared in their pain, as a little bit of the gas had crept with me and attacked my very senses.

Their faces grimaced for a while and their conversation led to them accusing each other for the foul smell and being a “p**** if [you] don’t own up to it” and how no one called “Safety.”

It was a terrible smell and it lingered.

This commuter’s revenge operation wasn’t over yet.

Holding back tears of laughter and smell crime, I felt another bomb lock into place. I was the Enola Gay and I had a second payload.

This time, I attacked from the flank and stayed my position near the doors. I dropped my nuke mere inches from the back of the head of one of the teenagers.

After I had sufficiently dropped enough of the payload to ensure that it wouldn’t follow me too much, I left to go closer towards the middle of the train.

The teens are perplexed.

As the Willy Peter wafted up to burn the hair off their nostrils, one of them got up and said, “Maybe, it’s the chairs.”

They all got up to look at their seats for any stains and the bottoms of their shoes.

Unsatisfied, they all got up as a group and moved towards the center of the train, right where I was.

I couldn’t help grinning as my stomach bubbled for a third time.

Oh the satisfaction of taking back what’s yours.

What did Reddit think?

This user understands the reference.

What an impeccably crafted tale of revenge.

More praise is in order.

These teens got what they deserved in the end, and although the perp didn’t escape the fumes, they still got their satisfaction.

Silent but deadly, indeed.

If you enjoyed this story, check out this post about a daughter who invited herself to her parents’ 40th anniversary vacation for all the wrong reasons.