By the title you can guess that I'm back to writing with @LonelyPretzel1 !! I really missed them a lot!! Hopefully more writers I haven't heard from in months will return, anyways ENJOY!!!

"Boy it sure smells in here, don't ya think?" Paul muttered, trying to air out the room as much as he could.

"Well it wasn't my idea to indulge on 100 bean burritos last night." Ringo retorted. I'm sure you readers can guess what caused such an awful stench, it's the return of the gassy Beatles! 

 "The what?"

"From Rita's really old oneshots, y'know the ones where we're all obsessed with butts?"

George gave a scared smile, "....Wh-what?"

"Ah never mind." Ringo waved his hand as if to swat the subject away.

"I think it's smell rather nice in here....like..." John gave a sniff and his face immediately scrunched up like he just licked the bottom of a Burger King fryer, "like plastic babies."

"...plastic babies???"

"John, please don't tell me you've..."

"I don't sniff real babies, Ringo! Only plastic ones, ya sod!"

At that moment all four Beatles let a giant fart rip in unison. "Okay I guess it doesn't smelly that good. But I doubt anyone has any ideas for how to stop this stench." John grumbled.

"I do! How about we eat tons of food that all smell good? Like chocolate chip cookies or strawberry crumble." George suggested.

"I suppose it's worth a try, but it doesn't work Imma sass you into next week." Paul grumbled.

"Not just good smells....no....that's not enough." Lennon squinted his eyes, thinking really hard with his rather tiny brain was difficult for him.

"How about we eat air fresheners?" George joked. 

"That's a terrible idea, shut up." Paul sneered. George slunk back into his armchair where a permanent hole had been made after years of slunking. He was rather good at slunking, what, did you think we meant sulking? No this is an entirely different thing that we don't have time to explain.

John's eyes went big and he snapped his fingers, "I got it! We eat air fresheners!!!"

Paul stopped to think for a moment. Thinking was easier for him since he actually had rational thoughts, "yes...that could work..."

"But I ju..." George was interrupted by his own massive fart. He continued slunking.

"I know, but I wanted to think of it first." John explained. "Now how about we stop arguing and get to eating those air fresheners! They ain't gonna eat themselves."

George just grumbled. "Bad enough I barely get any recognition on the albums, I was only joking about the whole eating a-"

"But who knows? Maybe it will work! And if it doesn't you can take all the credit." John giggled as he chomped down on a frebreze sprayer. "Tastes better than it looks, trust me."

The Beatles gorged on anything remotely similar to air fresheners or scented candles upon sight. Don't ask me how they thought it would have been a good idea, it's a story anything can happen. And besides, it worked. Well it may not have stopped their farts, but it made them smell like walking scented candles.

"Oooh, my bottom smells like vanilla!" Ringo swooned.

"I decided to go for the aesthetic and smell like a fresh rainstorm." George bragged.

"Yeah yeah cut it with your e-girl bullcrap, we all know you're a cat girl." John sneered. George hissed at John and went to go play with his cat toys ~somewhere else~.

"I smell like peppermint to get into the Christmas spirit, semi colon, parenthesis!!!" Paul exclaimed.

"I sMEll PEnnIEs." Ringo sniffed with a crazed look in his eyes. "Congrats Ringo, we're proud of you." Paul smiled. 

"Well I went for the best smell of all, a bouquet of flowers! But not the overpowering kind that's used in all those perfumes, it's light and lovely. Unless I fart super hard that is!" John grinned, letting a big one rip.

"John!! Everyone knows my toots will be the star of the house, I get to have the most smell here!" Paul boasted and farted. George was hissing again as he tried to fart as much as he could to take up all the smell in the house, Ringo meanwhile just shrugged and decided to join in on the farting fun.

"Boys! It's time you got ready for another interview." Brian called, but once all the different smells hit his nose he instantly fled and returned wearing an oxygen mask. "What did you do this time?"

"EPPPPPPYYYYYYYY MY BEST PAL, HOW YA DOING, OLD CHUM? LIFE TREATING YOU WELL?" JOHN exclaimed as he farted.

"Well excuse you." Epstein said, his voice muffled behind the mask, "it's time for your interview." 

 "Oh gosh I forgot!" Paul groaned, he farted as well, "How do we keep our farts in? It'll he so embarrassing!"

"Tut tut Paulie, it's simple. Just let off silent ones. They already smell good anyways." Ringo bit his lip, "but what if they hear?"

 "Then I guess you'll just have to suffer the consequences." John shrugged. 

 "... What are the consequences...?" 

 John smiled evilly and laughed while rubbing his hands together. "You don't want to know."

So they went, making sure to keep their cheeks tightly pressed together to prevent any more poots from exiting their systems. Unfortunately what they didn't know was the gas kept building up in their bottoms, making them swell.

"I guess it's time for yet another boring interview with the nosy paparazzi." John grumbled. "They couldn't even get us seats that fit our lovely little bottoms."

"Why are they called the paparazzi anyways? Sounds like the name of some Italian dessert pizza." Ringo asked, not taking any notice that he and his bandmates were slowly being inflated into big balls of gas.

"How should I know? I'm no dictionary, but I do have a big one."

"Pfft, your's Paul? It's only five and half inches, mine is way bigger!"

"Well if you boys are done fooling around we would like to ask some very important questions, is that hair real or not?"

 "You asked us that like a million times!"

"Ah yes, only the most important questions..." John grumbled.

"Paul, have you gotten fatter since we've last seen you?" Another reporter asked.

"I beg your freaking pardon?! No I have not!!!!" Paul ripped a fat one in front of the press and the entire room fell dead silent.

"S-sorry, that was just our coyote." George stammered.

"Coyote??"

"Y-yeah, we keep him under the table for... Umm.. stress relief!" Ringo added, he made a kicking gesture under the table, "there, that'll shut it up."

"A therapy coyote????"

"Yes, yes of course. Don't you have one?" John demanded.

"Well no."

"Then please don't judge." Paul sat back down slowly, careful not to let another loud one rip.

"I have a therapy orca."

"Well that's nice, now do you have any less boring questions you'd like to ask? We've only got half an hour to spare, we got lives and wives of our own y'know?" George grumbled.

"Ah yes! Why you sure lost some weight when the co-oh wait never mind you gained it all back. Hey why does the room suddenly smell like peppermint? I'm allergic to mint!"

Thinking quick, Ringo let out a quiet but strong vanilla scented fart to air out the peppermint smell. "Oh that's just our new scented candles we put in our pockets, aren't we revolutionary to think that?"

"Something fishy is definitely going on. You briefly lost weight too."

"Sorry we don't have fish scented candles."

"He mean he thinks you're suspicious of something, drummer boy."

"Stop hurting my feelings." Ringo pouted.

"Ah look what you've done, you've just made Ringo sad. You should be ashamed!" George sneered. He was trying to get out of the interview as much as Ringo was.

"I'm...sorry?" The reporter said it more as a question than a statement. John rolled his eyes, "nothing is going on. You sods are just nosey!"

Epstein intervened, "obviously you're making the boys very upset, please only ask competent questions please." John chuckled at that. 

 "Why does it smell like rain? As if the grass is covered in dew and a gentle mist has fallen over an quiet town in the middle of summer?" Everyone turned to look at the reported who asked the question. He kept his head down for the rest of the interview.

"Finally! Someone who understands the aesthetic of my gassy loveliness! Umm... I mean, I have no clue what you're talking about." George muttered.

"Aha! So there is something going on with you guys and that weird smell! Well either that or your coyote really needs to see the vet." The reporter called out.

"Alright fine you got us. We have a big farting problem and so we masked it by eating all the air fresheners in the house. But do you like our farts?"

"Oh we love them! It's like a perfume, you need to bottle your toots and sell them!"

"That's the dumbest idea I've ev-"

"YEAH WE'LL DO IT!" John screamed, interrupting Paul. George face-palmed. Ringo shifted uncomfortable and ripped another one.

Epstein scoffed, "no way, my boys aren't that stupid!"

John farted loudly and the entire room immediately smelled like flowers. Epstein looked like he was about to have a mental breakdown as Paul proudly farted as well.

George joined in, farting louder than both of them combined. "And it looks like those reporters have their perfume bottles ready, let's all let the biggest one rip in unison!"

Giggling, Ringo let a big one rip right in the face of a reporter, making him faint instantly from the baked goods smell coming from his butt. "We're the best at everything we do! We can even sell our farts and everyone will buy them!"

"People will pay for anything that comes from us." John bragged, "get your mind out of the gutter, Paulie."

Paul's face turned red, he didn't like the idea of farting right in people's faces so he discreetly farted in bottles and passed them out to people as free samples.

"We're gonna rule the world MUHAHAHAHAHAHAH." John laughed evilly.

 ------------- 

Soon shelves were stocked with the Beatles fart bottles. They were a huge hit for fans of all ages, even those without a sense of smell.

The Beatles were swimming in money not too long after the fart perfumes fit the shelves. "Everyone loves them! And we don't have to worry about running out of lovely smells coming out of our butts as long as we keep eating air fresheners." Ringo smiled.

"I still feel so embarrassed knowing that our fans would buy anything we slap our names on. Even jars full of our farts, even if they smell good."

"Aw cheer up Paul, how about we have a big fart off, that will get you used to being a Beatoot."

 "Beat.. toot?"

"The farting Beatles! Beatoots!"

"I'd rather choke on a sea urchin." Paul sassed.

John rolled his eyes, "Paul, you're doing it whether you like it or not. Too bad. Besides, sea urchins are considered a delicacy in some countries."

"I don't wanna do it either." George piped up.

"Nobody asked you, Joj!"

"I ASKED MYSELF, YOU CRUSTY PILLOW."

"What did you call me?! Only Cyn calls me her pillow!" John growled, butt slamming George against the wall.

"Shouldn't we be conserving our gas just in case the world runs out of air fresheners?" Ringo asked.

"NO!"

All four Beatles started tackling each other and farting on each other. The war raged on for hours. The entire building was destroyed. Families were separated, cities were burned. There was no escape from the big Beatoot catastrophe.

"Okay I think that got way too deep for a story about us bottling and selling our farts? Maybe the whole farting gig isn't working out, best we stick with being a band."

"Oh that's wonderful! I got this song idea about a guy going around whacking people on the head with hammers."

".... On second thought we still got some lovely smelling gas left." But it turns out they used it all up in their fight and had no more perfume ejecting from their behinds.

In fact, the Beatles lost their ability to fart completely. John was rather sour about the turn of events and fans were angry so they burned all the Beatles records they could. But don't worry, they soon got over it.

"I thought they did that because John said we were bigger than Jesus?" Ringo pointed out.

Well history was wrong.

 ~The End~ Based on a true story