She may die of massive internal rainbows.

The following is a conversation that may very well take place in the not-too-distant future...

"...hello, 000? I need an ambulance at *address suppressed*"
"What is the nature of your emergency?"
"It's SHINY! Please hurry!"

twenty minutes later...

Charlie Blowfly: Thank god you're here! I didn't know what else to do!

Facey McBones: *lies groaning on the couch like a cow in labour*

Ambo: What’s happened?

Charlie Blowfly: Ummm...

Ambo: OK let’s get her stabilised first. Has she taken any drugs?

Facey McBones: *giggles and groans again*

Charlie Blowfly: Define “drugs”.

Ambo: If I’m going to help her I need to know what she’s taken.
Charlie Blowfly: OK, OK... this. *holds out container*

Ambo: *reads the label* You know this isn’t a legitimate prescription.

Charlie Blowfly: I know!

Facey McBones:  *screws up her face in a hideous pained grin as the unmistakable sound of a fabric-ripping fart fills the room, accompanied by a strange tinkling noise*

Ambo: *looking around confused* Are there... bells around here? Maybe a windchime?

Charlie Blowfly:  *resignedly* No, that was her. It’s been happening for a couple of hours now.

*Facey McBones lies giggling on the couch, tears running down her cheeks*
Ambo: Why is she laughing?

Charlie Blowfly:  She’s hysterical. She needs help!

Ambo: *opens the bottle* ...Oh. Oh my.

Charlie Blowfly:  ... yeah... yeah.

Ambo: ... Why?

Charlie Blowfly:  It was meant to be a gift!

Ambo: A gift?

Charlie Blowfly:  She always wanted everything about her to be fabulous... 

Ambo: and so...

*Another earth-shattering yet oddly musical fart sound fills the room*

Facey McBones: ...I think I just fabuloused my pants...