Smells Like Eggs

The Lineup: A bunch of floating heads, each with noses pointed at a different fart source.

Fart Factor: 8 out of 10. (from clockwise) Big Blonde detects a big one; Baseball Cap can't pinpoint if it's a skunk or an ass bomb; Waitress is unimpressed; Doof in the Middle thinks it may have been him; and Small Blonde kind of likes the smell.

Most Likely Fart Suspect: NOBODY. The place just reeks like that!

STOP THAT TRAIN!

The Lineup: Somewhere between Norwood and Forest Hills, the train car with only two passengers has gotten too crowded. Shelby is on her way to an important lunch meeting. Karl is just riding for fun.

Fart Factor: By the surprised look on her face, 8. That thang be stankin'.

Most Likely Fart Suspect: No surprise twist here. It's him. Oh God, it's him.

Can You Feel It?

The Lineup: Oscar winner Forest Whitaker, Virginia Madsen, Minnie... oh hell, you can read, can't you? Shit.

Fart Factor: 6 out of 10. A cloud of mystery surrounds the whole group. Forest tries desperately to look innocent. Minnie Driver is about to take names. Virginia Madsen pretends she's sitting at another table. And Philippe Caland (?????????) contemplates his fate as he dies in a yellow cloud.

Most Likely Fart Suspect: Minnie Driver. How do you like them apples?

Don't ask, don't smell.

The lineup:

Two stock-photography soldiers in basic training strain their muscles and bowels alike.

Fart factor:

8 out of 10.

Most likely fart suspect:

It's a highly proven scientific fact that strenuous physical activity causes additional biscuits of air to propel themselves into our atmosphere. And to that end (pun intended), these guys sure are propelling something. They'll make it. Damn right they'll make it. Both of them farted. Each in their own way.