There are no good stories here because everyone's sphincters are welded so tight on the regional side that they won't be having any "accidents." That, and most of the regional FOs are still in diapers, so not many messes can happen there.
Had a Captain once, great guy, just had a terrible case of gas. Many nights cruising along, it would hit me: That fowl stench. I'd look over, and you could see his teeth gleaming off the instrument panel proud of his bowl concoction. So again, there I go, on O2. Well the one time, it was bad. I mean placards falling off the panel bad, since the glue was melting. Where even on O2, the odor manages to wiggle its way into the mask. At this point, I'm ready to take the axe and either plug his ass with the handle, or crack the window for air at FL350. I'm dying. So about this time, flight attendant calls from the front interphone by the door to see how we're doing. She's quite curious why I'm on O2 talking through the mask, when it hits her. She just hangs up. I'm somewhat confused at this point. Soon she calls back: This time, from the back, with that nasal-y voice as if she was plugging her nose. She says that someone up front must have "busted ass" and that the passengers in the first few rows all woke up from the smell. I lose it. I'm laughing hysterically, and inform her that was our illustrious Captain. She just mumbles "figures" and hung up. No coffee for me, I guess.