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20 Common Questions About Farts
A Lonely, Wayward Fart Named Steve (Episode 1)
Bottling Farts (English, Spanish, Italian)
Bottling Farts, Inc. (Episode 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)
Crazy Authors Volume 1
Finding Floofy (English, Spanish)
Five Reasons Why Dating Hot Chicks is a Bad Idea
Four Stinky Stories Vol. 1 (English, Spanish)
Four Stinky Stories Vol. 2 (English, Spanish)
Going Dutch (English, Spanish)
Marriage Stinks (English, Spanish)
The $500 Question (English, Spanish)
The Chapped-Ass Critic (English, Spanish)
The Would Be Asstronaut (English, Spanish)
Till Death Do Us Fart (English, Spanish, Dutch)
Weekend Getaway (English, Spanish)
© 2014 Donald Rump. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form (electronic, mechanical or otherwise) without the express written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
E-book layout, formatting and design by Donald Rump.
Cover art © Larisa Koshkina. Fart drawings by Mel Casipit and used in accordance with the public domain license found at the following page:
First Edition (v1.2)
Published on January 26, 2014
Last updated on May 1, 2016
Also by Donald Rump
My Two Cents
About the Author
I still remember the first time I met you. I’d fallen from grace, much like I have now. In my pit of despair, you raised me up. Made me laugh, cry. That warm bottle of Killian’s Red smashed over my head never tasted better. Oh sweet, sweet memories, take me back to the song of yesterday...
My life had been empty till you came along. I was drinking my way towards a slow death, my Catholic upbringing preventing me from ending it any sooner. The breakup with my fiancé of twelve years shattered me, and felt like a divorce and a funeral rolled into one. For the first time in a long while, I felt vulnerable and alone. How could I ever trust another soul again?
Ten long, miserable years I’d spent earning a doctorate degree. “It will make you proud, and give you a new sense of purpose and self-worth,” my mother told me. While it helped secure me a higher paying job, it also brought with it a mountain of debt. “One day you’ll look back on this and thank me for pushing you so hard,” my mother rambled on. “A good education completes you on the most honorable of levels.”
Who was I to argue? She was my mom after all, and wanted the best things for me in life. But the only thing it completed was her lofty expectations of me. Inside, I was very much the same lonely, confused child that I’d always been, and didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life yet.
“My son’s a doctor!” my parents shouted in every ear that would listen. But in reality, I was an expert in Turfgrass Management, and it did little to fill me.
“Turfgrass, eh? What’s that?” said a drunken fool with a red face, bad haircut and a golden nametag that read ‘Squiggy.’ He set down his bottle and burped. “By chance are you referring to something of the female persuasion?”