  After sliced bread, the next best thing ever conceived was a miniture, self-inflating urlLink WHOOPIE CUSHION ! And I did just as the advertisment directs--I squeezed farts right out of the palm of my hand. What awesome power! On escaltors! On elevators! On Jewish Seders! I tooted wherever, and whenever, I pleased. And I usually followed the "Bronx cheer" with a few very audible sniffs while casting an accusitory glare meant to implicate any passerbys or fellow passengers. In elevators I recommend the following procedure: 1. Toot your mini whoopie cushion. 2. Give a digusted look at one passenger (A), who will no doubt try to ignore the goings-on. 3. Look at another passenger (B), smirk, roll your eyes, indicate the first passenger(A) with either your eyes, or a head nod in their direction, and "discretely" wave your hand beneath your nose.
Make sure that (A) catches you doing this. The absolute best time I ever had was lying in wait in a public washroom at The Bay on Yonge St., hidden in a stall, biding my time until nature called someone. Just as my victim began to relieve himself at the urinal, I let my mini Whoopie Cushion off its leash--toot--and followed it with the most agonizing moan of "Ohhh, God". Immediately A stopped mid-stream for a listen. I waited silently until the waterworks started up again, then--toot--followed by an even bigger moan, trying to make this one sound more worried and weary. I took my inspiration from seeing (and hearing) a cow giving birth in the middle of the farmer's field across from my house. Immediately A stopped his relief for a listen. What morbid curiosity! I let out another, smaller toot and was tempted to call for my "Mommy", but resisted.
A zipped up and fled, in his haste neglecting to wash his hands. I stood in my stall, exited, and after an approriate amount of time, exited the lavitory. I suspected A of being cut from the same perverted cloth as I, so while I was exiting I quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying special mind to the inhabitant of the can who had crapped himself within an inch of death. A guy perusing frames glanced quickly at me, then back at the frames. No guy is that interested in frames. 
