Yukizie, in stark contrast to his past as a bouncer, had matured into an ardent connoisseur of gastronomy, a transformation embodied by his rotund midsection. That is why he suggested the Belly God restaurant for this endeavor. They had just acquired some fancy new cooking equipment that took the cuisine to new levels. And Baron Mori was eagerly awaiting a specially prepared flash-seared stake. But the delectable scents that wafted through the luxurious rooftop were marred that night by a horrific series of events. Shortly after Yukizie arrived they cracked open a delectable bottle of elderberry wine, a parring recommended by the chef himself. A sweet and fragrant aroma to prepare the pallet for the more complex umami flavors to follow. They were finishing off their second cup, when, to the ruination of Yukizie’s pants, came the bout of explosive flatulence. Baron Mori's immaculately groomed mustache twitched and his eyes narrowed. No one farts in his general direction.

Things worsened from there. The waiter bought out the food, and the Baron cut into the soft meat with refined precision. But as soon as the perfectly cooked steak touched the Baron's lips, Yukizie's rump let free some additional seasoning. Every bite the Baron took was punctuated by a sudden fatty florp and an aroma that would curl the mustache of a lesser man. What's worse is that it seemed like Yukizie's hands simply wouldn't work correctly. Every bite of food fell from his lips or chopsticks. Every sip of wine spilled. A team of waiters had arrived to help clean up when Yukizie's belly started to shake. A low rumbling slowly moved lower until it encountered his lavish chair with enough force to shake the glassware.

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Yukizie stood and bowed to apologize, something Baron Mori considered well past due. But Yukizie bowed too low, his chin hitting the edge of the table with enough force to knock over the wine. Then the twit fell backward into his chair, which crumbled under his girth. His flabby rear end hit smacked the ground and dislodged its remaining contents. The couple at the far table was chuckling under their pinched noses and quickly left. A wise decision as no one laughs at the Baron.

As Yukizie’s rotund form squealed from the ground like a sow, a tempest of ire swept through Baron Mori. He dabbed away wine from his luxurious velour uniform lamenting that he now reeked of elderberries.