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Bully vs. Fart 3: Liquid Menace
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Dingleberry Small
Bully vs. Fart: The Early Daze
Bully vs. Fart 2: Fart Wedding
Bully vs. Fart 3: Liquid Menace
Bully vs. Fart 4: Terminating Sara O'Connor's Fart
Max Underpants
My Robot Farts!
My Robot Farts 2
© 2016 Dingleberry Small. 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 Dingleberry Small.
Written, edited and produced in the United States of America. Dingleberry Small is proud to represent beautiful Orlando, Florida.
Image(s) licensed by DepositPhotos.com and © Sergey Kruglov (#42501513), Eric Basir (#48180511), Nikiteev Konstantin (#40341299), Neil Richardson (#52720659, #52720685, #52720667, #52720661) and James Heyworth (#24794429).
First Edition (v1.0)
Published on March 26, 2016
Last updated on October 14, 2016
ISBN-13: 9781524296285
Title Page
Also by Dingleberry Small
Copyright
Dedication
Bully vs. Fart 3: Liquid Menace
Genius Corner
About the Author
Thank You!
Mailing List
To Bruce. You're groovy, baby!
“Do you know why you’re in here?” Detective Bill Tangem set down his cup of coffee and a manilla folder and took a seat.
“Uh...no.” Adam Gason, the nerdtastic student from Mile One Elementary, nudged his glasses further up the crooked bridge of his nose. He stared at the cuffs around his wrists, and wished he were the Incredible Hulk so that he could snap them off and jump out of the police station in a single bound.
“Here, let me make you more comfortable...” The detective got up, unhooked the keys from a loop on his slacks, and unlocked the boy’s cuffs.
Adam rubbed his burning wrists. If he weren’t looking, he’d swear that the cuffs were still on him. “Am I going to be here a while?”
“That all depends on you.” Detective Tangem returned to his seat.
“Wait. Time out.” Adam gestured. “Aren’t I supposed to get a lawyer or something?”
“Or something. But I’m not the one charging you. That would be the Department of Homeland Security, or DHS as we call them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re being charged under the Patriot Act, son. Do you understand how serious that is?” Bill sipped his coffee and gave him a look that could melt steel.
“What?! But the Patriot Act is for terrorists,” Adam gasped.
“Both foreign and domestic.” Tangem nodded. “So do you want to tell me what’s going on here? DHS has men on the way right now. I could help y [...]