Fart Lover Supreme E-Book

Donald Rump

• Herausgeber: Publisher s21000
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Kimberly Grant is ruthless, and wants a taco. Thankfully, she's found a sucker to give it to her. Big time!

Approximately 2,900 words.

Das E-Book Fart Lover Supreme wird angeboten von Publisher s21000 und wurde mit folgenden Begriffen kategorisiert:
farts, humor, humorous, fart fiction, tacos, mexican food, silly, comedy, hot girlfriend, gas, hospital, unlucky

Leseprobe

Fart Lover Supreme

Donald Rump

Also by Donald Rump

20 Common Questions About Farts

A Lonely, Wayward Fart Named Steve

Date Like A Scoundrel: 10 Things to Tell Ugly Chicks on a First Date

Bottling Farts

Bottling Farts, Inc. Season 1

Captive Audience

Crazy Authors Volume 1

Don't Count Your Chicken Farts Before They Hatch

Fart Lover Supreme

Finding Floofy

Five Reasons Why Dating Hot Chicks is a Bad Idea

Floofed at 40,000 Feet

Four Stinky Stories Vol. 1

Four Stinky Stories Vol. 2

Four Stinky Stories Vol. 3

Four Stinky Stories Vol. 4

Gastrointestinal Blues

Going Dutch

Keeping Wind Laten and the Fate of the World at Bay

Marriage Stinks

Pedo Flambé

Put Another Fart in the Jukebox, Baby

The $500 Question

The Gay Assteroid

The Chapped-Ass Critic

The Hairiest Butt

The Would Be Asstronaut

Till Death Do Us Fart

Weekend Getaway

© 2020 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.

Image(s) licensed by DepositPhotos.com and © Angga Mahardika Putra (#250439734) and Evgenii Naumov (#322367502). Fart drawings by Mel Casipit.

First Edition (v1.0)

Published on January 24, 2020

Last updated on January 1, 2025

ISBN-13: 9781393361800

ASIN: B0845VK71J

Support Me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/DonaldRump

Table of Contents

Title Page

Also by Donald Rump

Copyright

Dedication

Fart Lover Supreme

My Two Cents

Product Description

About the Author

Ad 1: Till Death Do Us Fart

Ad 2: 20 Common Questions About Farts

Ad 3: Four Stinky Stories, Vol. 1

Thank You!

Dedication

Hannah, oh dear, sweet Hannah...

Could this be love...at first fart?

Fart Lover Supreme

“Hey, you’re that guy who’s going to take out Kimberly Grant, aren’t you?” Meyer Muddlewick limped over, his long hair a mess, at least one tooth missing from his crooked smile.

“Sorry, do I know you?” Murray Ike, all of seventeen years old, looked at the catastrophe with a pulse before him. “How did you know I’m taking Kimberly out this evening?” Murray looked from park bench to park bench to see which of his friends had sold him out.

Of course, there was a small problem with that scenario: Murray didn’t have any friends, one of the many reasons why he thought about dropping out of school. And despite sucking at sports thanks to a nasty smoking habit, he did have a date with that hottie Kimmy, which made him rethink his plans and (gasp) consider finishing high school.

“I used to date her, you know.” Meyer shrugged. “I’m Meyer.” He offered a hand.

Damn, there was something wrong with his neck as well. And the strange shape of his jaw—it was as if it had been shattered and put back together by the underpants gnomes. Was it missing some of the pieces? Fuck! And had he dislocated each of his fingers?

“You went out with her?” Murray couldn’t contain his surprise. Sure, he probably sounded like an asshole, but Meyer didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah, me.” Another crooked smile.

“Please don’t do that again.” Murray found himself saying over and over in his head. “Well, lucky you,” was the best he could come up with.

That quickly trimmed the smile from Meyer’s face. “If only that were true.” He looked off to the side and cringed. “You know I didn’t always look like this.”

“Look like what?” Murray tried to play it off innocently.

But come on. Even Meyer looked at him like, “Dude, what the fuck? This is me you’re talking to here. Don’t you think I see this ugly mug in the mirror every fucking day? Now cut the shit, Murray!”

“Well,” Murray started again, “at least you can say that-”

“I survived?” The crocodile smile returned to Meyer’s warped face. “You really don’t have any idea what you’re in for, do you, pal?”

“Only that she’s the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

And that she was! Kimmy was about Murray’s height, blonde, bubbly and slender but well proportioned in all the right places. She had a pleasing smile unlike the hunchback that slobbered before Murray, was super smart—hell, their conversation about gaseous emissions depleting the ozone layer was what had earned him a date—and, although Murray refused to admit it, he sensed a naughty streak in her.

“Whatever you do, avoid small, confined spaces with her and definitely don’t feed her any Mexican food.” Meyer tried to warn him.

“What?!” Murray couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t take her to Taco Bell, numb nuts, or the same thing that happened to me will happen to you!” He looked as if he were about to reach across the table and wring Murray’s neck.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking wind filled Murray’s ears, followed by the sight of Meyer flying through the air and rolling off a picnic bench.

“Hey, Mmmmmurray.” Kimberly Grant looked as fine as ever, her blonde highlights glistening in the sun. “That better not be a friend of yours.” She pointed to the mangled brute trying to pick himself off the ground.

“Oh, no. Never.” Murray shook his head a bit too forcefully. “He was just trying to warn me about-”

Oh, shit. What exactly was he babbling about? Something about Mexican food and cramped spaces and some kind of mind fuckery that Meyer didn’t quite have time to express. Even if he did understand whatever the fuck Meyer was going on about, it wasn’t as if Murray could disclose it to his date, whose features seemed to narrow the longer it took him to come up with a response.

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s just some weirdo trying to get me to sign a petition for an improved salad bar in the school cafeteria or some shit.” Murray shrugged.

“Yeah, what a LOSER!” Kimberly said as loud as she could. She grabbed a rock lying next to her foot and tossed it at Meyer, dinging it off the side of his head.

Damn, Kimmy was intense! And an expert marksman. Or markswoman. Or whatever the fuck they wanted to be called these days.

“Now, about tonight...” Kimberly turned to Murray and smiled—you know, the type of smile that turned mushy, limp things into wood. “I don’t want to wait...” She finished off the soda that Murray was drinking.

“So what exactly were you thinking...?” Murray was already throbbing.

Damn he wanted to stuff that pretty mouth with-

“Tacos.” She smiled wide enough to reveal her braces.

Well, goddamn. Murray could work with those, he guessed. Hopefully they weren’t installed by the same company that sold Ginsu knives. And what the fuck did Meyer say about Mexican food? No matter. “Yeah, well, I guess we could-”

“Great. Let’s go!” Kimberly stood and tossed Murray’s empty styrofoam cup over her shoulder, missing the trash can by a good thirty feet.

“Now?” Murray couldn’t believe he was already standing. “But we have school-”

“You’re not going to graduate anyways, limp dick.” Kimberly took Murray’s hand in hers. “Besides, you’ll just wind up working at Taco Bell like the rest of your family.”

“Taco Bell? Me???”

“You don’t really think McDonald’s would want you, do you? And, oh yeah! You’re paying. Got that?!” Kimberly tugged at him to get moving.

“No, don’t do it!!!” The disheveled Meyer finally got to his feet.

“Oh, we’re doing it!” Kimberly walked up, kicked Meyer in the nuts, tossed him to the ground, and hurried off with Murray. “Come on, before security sees us.”

The two fled school grounds as discreetly as possible.

* * *

Damn, Kimberly was ruthless. But it was a huge turn on, and Murray couldn’t believe she had picked him of all people to hang out with. The mile walk went by in the blink of an eye, her hand in his the most human contact he’d had in, well...forever.

“Fuck yeah!” Kimberly let go of Murray’s hand and ripped open the front door of the corner Taco Bell.

But wasn’t he supposed to be holding the door for her? Damn everything was backwards when it came to Kimberly Grant. So much so, he needed a cigarette, but as soon as he reached for his lighter...

“I hope you’ve got a big wad of cash to blow, because I’m hungry!” Kimberly ran up to the counter to get a better look at the menu.

“Oh, I’ve got a wad for you to blow, all right,” Murray thought to himself. From behind, he was taking in a very different kind of menu; something nice, plump, round, and most definitely, 100% beef. “So what are you thinking...?” he whispered in her ear, but it all came out wrong—like he was super hard-up and desperate, which was basically him in a nutshell. No, he wanted to be anyone other than Murray Ike right now. “Mexican pizza?” he finally blurted out.

“Fuck you, and fuck your retarded Mexican pizza! I can’t believe they still have that shit on the menu.” If Kimberly were facing him she would have smacked him the moment “Mexican” sprung off his lips; and maybe a finger up the bum for pairing “Mexican” and “pizza” together.

“Hey, just kidding. I was just trying to get a rise out of you, that’s all.” Murray forced a smile.

“Oh really?” Kimberly turned, her glorious butt brushing against Murray’s already erect penis strapped in his tight jeans.

“Yeah, Meyer said that-”

Oh, fuck. Why did he have to bring up that loser again?

“What did Meyer say?” Kimberly rolled up her sleeves.

For a moment she looked as if she were going to punch him in the face. Sure, Murray was a bitch and all, but what if she knocked him the fuck out? Would he get over the embarrassment of getting k.o.'d by a girl, let alone in Taco Bell?

Murray needed to think of something fast, but fuck. That Mexican pizza, that shapely, round ass—his mind was totally shot! For once, why couldn’t his penis do the talking? It got him into this situation in the first place! And damn it to hell he didn’t know what that loser with the twisted face was getting at.

“He said that you have certain dietary needs that might be better served with...a salad.” Murray forced another smile.

Oh, thank God! It almost sounded like something that that broken boy might say and he didn’t even have to smoke a pack of cigarettes to come up with it.

“Shows you how much that ass nut knows.” Kim turned back to the menu. “I’m going right for the chalupa. All steak, baby.” She rubbed up against Murray again.

Goddamn Murray needed to order fast or he might squeeze one out in his jeans before he made it to the salsa bar.

“You order, honey.” He whipped out a twenty-dollar bill. “Surprise me.” He whipped out a matching bill, which brought a smile to Kimberly’s face.

Was it even possible to spend forty bucks at Taco Bell? That was like a whole month’s worth of visits for Murray and his weak-ass stomach.

“Two steak chalupas.” Kimberly started off.

“Better make that three,” said Murray.

“And a Strawberry Skittles Freeze,” she added.

“Extra large.” Murray didn’t miss a beat.

“Doritos Locos Tacos, baby?” Kimberly turned.

“Give us one of each.” Murray was all smiles.

“Cinnamon Twists?” She added a smile.

“Anything for you, baby.”

“Glow-in-the-dark cock ring? Or how about a tattoo of me using a blowtorch to light up your anus?” She didn’t bat an eye.

What the fuck had just came out of that sweet, little something’s mouth...?

“Just making sure you’re paying attention.” Kimberly winked. “And how could I forget a nice, big XXL bean burrito?”

“Better make that a supreme.” Murray swore he was in love with that foul-mouthed little freak from Amarillo, Texas.

“No, no, no!!!” Meyer Muddlewick hobbled forward, crackling off a few, weak farts as his entrance music.

“What the hell? Did you follow us all the way from school?” Murray about peed himself.

“Not you again!” Kimberly threw him over the counter, jumped over as if she were clearing a hurdle, kneed him in the face, and then tossed him out the drive-in window. “Did you get all that?” She turned back to the girl ringing in her order.

“Yes, ma’am.” The girl nodded, and forced a smile on her face.

* * *

By the time Kimberly had explained to the staff that the guy she’d thrown out the window didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy and that he’d been stalking her for the better part of a year, their order was ready. Such a tall tale she’d spun that the manager felt compelled to refund their money and prepared the food herself. Kimberly pocketed the cash without a glance at Murray, who was seated at the table with piles of hot sauce and napkins like a good, little cuck. She proudly walked over to the table, set the tray down, spun around, and plopped down in the chair.

When Murray reached out to grab the closest thing he could find, Kimberly swatted him away. “I don’t know what you’re thinking. That bean burrito is mine!”

“Yeah, no problem.” Murray reached out again.

“And the Doritos Locos Tacos.” She made sure he didn’t so much as touch them.

As for the chalupas, FUCK NO! She was already inhaling them before he could rub two brain cells together.

“Here.” She offered him half a bag of Cinnamon Twists.

Yeah, fucking Cinnamon Twists. The only thing they were good for was insulating the fucking garage.

“Come to think of it, I’m really not that hungry right now,” Murray lied.

“Good.” Kimberly swiped the last of the Cinnamon Twists from him. “It’s not like you’re getting any of this, anyways.”

“Really, not even a little bite of your taco?” Murray couldn’t hide his frown.

“NOOO!!!!!” Kimberly screeched.

Murray promptly found himself flying out of his chair, and dinged the side of head against a table. Now hungry, hard-up and frazzled, he wasn’t sure how to react. “Are you fucking serious?” He got to his feet and tried to shake off the stars buzzing around his head. “You could at least save me a taco since I paid for all of it.”

“You ain’t gettin’ shit!” Kimberly shoved the entire bean burrito in her mouth and chewed.

“Give me that!” He missed the bean burrito by a millimeter and came away with the wrapper.

To that, Kimberly chewed fast and swallowed. “Don’t get me started.”

“Or what? WHAT?!” Murray grabbed the only thing he could—the hot sauce—and emptied the contents in his mouth.

Considering how lame Murray’s attempt was to anger her, Kimberly should have been left laughing, perhaps to the point of tears. No matter, for now she was genuinely pissed—as if he’d shared one of her many nude pics circulating social media.

“Let’s get something straight, fuck wad...” Kimberly pointed her ass like a cannon and let it rip.

The force took out Murray at the knees, tossing him into the air and leaving his face the fine task of breaking his fall with the aid of the tile floor.

Damn, how many teeth had he just lost? And no, that wasn’t hot sauce—that was blood pouring out of his nose!

“If you’re going to be with me, you’re going to love my burps and my farts too, no exceptions,” Kimberly hissed.

The sight was so absurd it was comical. How could such venom spill out of such a lovely, sweet thing like that? And hell... What was so bad about her burps?

He had to ask, didn’t he?

It didn’t take her long to guzzle down both of their Strawberry Skittles Freezes. As Murray scraped himself off the floor, she let him have it, a belch for the ages that catapulted him into the air, bounced his head off the ceiling fan, and dumped his sorry ass on the floor.

Good grief, what had happened to Murray’s arm? How it dangled in the socket like the matching limp noodle in his jeans. At least he hadn’t landed on his head again, and had merely broken the fall with his dislocated shoulder and shattered hip.

Still, Murray wouldn’t be denied.

“Forget about her. Get away while you can...” Meyer crawled through the door on his elbows and palms, unable to move his legs.

Kimberly caught sight of the stalker crawling through the door and stepped over to the register. “Make me the biggest bean burrito you can build.” She forked over all forty dollars that she’d swindled out of the establishment.

Quickly the Taco Bell staff complied, for who wanted to be on the wrong end of that Howitzer of a derriere?

And when Murray’s ill-advised hand found Kimmy’s last Doritos Locos Taco, he was blasted to another world, beyond the glass window he now found himself flying through. Through all of the surgeries and full body cast mounted to his body that would follow, he never let go of that taco. It would eventually mold and decay and stink to high heaven but it was his—the one thing he had deprived Kimberly Grant of.

* * *

“So what do you say, babe?” Kimmy strutted into the hospital room and slammed the door shut, red stilettos and a killer dress that rode up her long legs.

Once again Murray found himself alone with her one afternoon. He wanted to scream, but it hurt just to breathe. Still, she was just as cute as he remembered, and with her outstretched hand perhaps they could be friends, after all. “Sure, why not?” He leaned forward as best he could.

But Kimmy had other plans.

She grabbed a hammer from her backpack as if she were a ninja drawing a sword, smashed through Murray’s arm cast, and pried loose that ancient taco, snapping a finger or two.

“Mmm... It was worth the wait.” She gobbled up that crusty, old taco and licked her fingers clean. “You know what?” She took a good look at him and burped. “You’re kinda sexy all made up like that and I’ve always wanted to fuck a mummy.”

“Oh, fuck me...!” Murray could only mouth the words.

“So where to next?” Kimberly jumped atop, straddled him, and drew her arms around his neck, breaking a few things in the process. “Oops.” An untimely air biscuit snuck out the backdoor.

Fucking hell.

“You’re killing me, babe. Just killing me...” Murray groaned.

“Well in that case-” She let off another stinker. “So what do you say? The beach? You know, I’ve always wanted to go to Daytona. Or perhaps a night club? Florida’s got lots of cool night clubs like that one that got shot up last weekend.” She bounced up and down just for fun.

“With a little luck...” Murray pulled out his lighter and flicked it with his one good hand, watching sparks fly. “The moon.”

THE END

My Two Cents

There’s a grain of truth to every story I write. No, I didn’t blow the windows out of a Taco Bell. (Though, with all the refried beans they serve, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened yet.)

No, I had a girl tell me that I had to love her just as she was, with all her farts and burps and other idiosyncrasies.

Really?

Do you not know who I am or the type of stories I write?

Apparently not.

No, that silly goose had no idea that I write about such nonsense on a daily basis and am a champion for the rights of all gaseous entities great and small. (That’s right, grandma, I make you proud!)

Her little fart comments came out unprompted, so I just had to write a story about it. As I was eating the updated $5 Chalupa Box at Taco Bell (Now almost six bucks!), I decided to text her, poke fun at her list of demands (Really? The burps, too?), and eventually arrive at the title, Fart Lover Supreme.

Perfect!

So does that mean I’ll love her farts? Fuck no! But I did the next best thing—write a story about them. (And if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.)

Here you go, darling; your farts are now more famous than you are. Don’t thank me, just tell me something more crazy next time so that I might write about that as well.

Yup, you can keep all them farts. Every last one of them. Share them with a friend or family member, preferably not when they’re driving you to Disney Springs. And definitely don’t float one in the middle of a movie. (The movies coming out these days stink already and don’t need an alternate soundtrack.)

So am I worried about the backlash? The chance little cutie pie might actually stumble across this expletive-laden piece of fart fiction? That presumes a lot—that she can read, mainly. So, no. Not in the slightest. I’m all good here.

And would you look at that? As I finish up the writing of this book, I realized that I still have a chalupa left in my $5 box. A fitting reward, no doubt. (Now where did I put the Fire sauce???)

'Til we meet again, Taco Bell, my one and only true love...

—Donald Rump, Fart Expert

Product Description

Kimberly Grant is ruthless, and wants a taco. Thankfully, she’s found a sucker to give it to her. Big time.

Approximately 2,900 words.

KEYWORDS: farts, humor, humorous, fart fiction, tacos, mexican food, silly, comedy, hot girlfriend, gas, hospital, unlucky

About the Author

When he's not writing about old, crusty farts, Donald Rump writes about actual farts—the stinkier the better. He is also an advocate of the No Fart Left Behind program and marriage equality for all gaseous entities great and small. Apparently, he also gives dating advice.

Mr. Rump lives in Southern Maryland with his pet fart Floofy.

Till Death Do Us Fart

Helen Hubbard's fears have finally been confirmed. During brunch one morning in her favorite restaurant, her husband Gary confesses to cheating on her, and is ready to leave at a moment's notice. When she pries deeper into the matter, she discovers more about his mysterious lover Muffy than she cares to know. “So you’re leaving me for a fart???” Helen exclaimed.