On another hand, though, sometimes a PV is the perfect thing to deal with the farters. The other day, I was in Borders Books, and since they are having a huge sale, I grabbed a huge stack of books and searched for a chair. After lugging an armful of books all around the store, I finally found a seat and a stool to set my books on so that I could page through and pick a few out. Within moments, some old cat stopped no more than 4 feet a way from me and let one fly. A real brap-a-lap-lap, too. I couldn't believe it, I was just in shock. It was bad, bad stuff. Vincent Price in black-and-white bad. Some real

foul

! I was like "

, you're

killing me.

"
I'd say that I was fuming, but it wasn't me, it was dude, and I was
dying in it. Some

Glen Beck

.
As I wiped the tears from my eyes, I had a MacGuyver moment. As much as I wanted to run away screaming, I had a tool with me to combat the stench of death that I was being assaulted with: my PV. I boiled at least a ml within moments, pushed my atty to the limits of tolerance, damn near burnt a finger off, but within moments, I could breath easy once again.
I was a little grossed out at the concept of intentionally inhaling dude's exhaust through my PV, but every now and again, you got suck it up just so that you can breath easy.