“That wasn’t ‘a little gas,’ George. That wasn’t an oops, I farted fart. That was a protracted, theatrically loud, shotgun, illegal-fireworksfrom-Chinatown kind of fart. It was the kind of fart you do when you’re all alone. To make sure you’re still alive. To reassure yourself that you actually exist.” George was impressed by her riff on the fart.”