The Tell Tale Fart
I was mad? No, I was just completely scared and grossed out. Me, being a germophob, was really grossed out to the point of puking. You see, I’ve lived with him for only a semester, and I can’t take it anymore. My roommate, that Fat Chub, was the sloppiest person you could ever know.
I had asked him sit down, shut up, and to take his fat keyster out the window if he eats another Jimmy John’s while sitting on our uncomfortably small couch with me. There was mayo everywhere… So was I mad? Yes, after talking about it, I figured I was mad at the Fat Chub and decided he needed an intervention. An intervention so our place no longer smelled like aged french fries and greasy comic books. I had decided to forge a will, then kill the obese nutcase and strip him of his money. No longer will it be spent on that rank Axe deodorant! But most of all… his room-clearing farts’ absence I would enjoy the most.
I had planned to kill him when he was at his most vulnerable, watching nasty stuff on his scratched up laptop. I was so happy I was finally about to rid myself of this dork. The day I kind of non-cleverly planned the murder happened to be clever after all, so… Yay. Bonus kudos for me. Every Thursday night is usually a regular night. He watches the crap and does the crap on his laptop. I’ve been spying on him through the tiniest crack in his bedroom door. I really haven’t been planning the murder in advance, but.. well, it’s not your why I’ve been watching him! Anyway, tonight was a night I heard him talk about in his room. This Thursday night was a live stream of the crap he called entertainment. Tonight, he would be extra focused on the screen… A perfect time to make my move.
The Thursday night of the stream, I tip toed over the creaking wood-veneer flooring after writing a will that entitled everything to his roommate, me. He obviously didn’t hear me though. Through those low-quality built in speakers of his was blaring club music and lots of sexual grunts. I peeked through the door and saw the heinous as usual behavior . I then pulled out my old Glock 10 pistol out of my sleeve. It was already loaded. Oh how kind of clever I was… I stood there for 3 hours. Suprisingly and sadly, the program was still airing. I had only moved a fraction of an inch and felt like I was wasting my life waiting here.
“Screw it.” I said, and charged forward into the terrible smelling room and grabbed the chub by the neck and shoved the gun into his ear. I at least tried to find his neck though. “That was the last straw with the subs buddy. I’m gonna put lead in your hairy ass.” I said with an edge. That very moment he was gasping for air and kicking, while which he knocked his laptop onto the floor. He bombed Hiroshima. He let loose the most wicked fart ever. As I held onto him. The room began to shake and the ceiling fan fell out of the fissure that had been there since we moved in. I took in a breath that I had I no idea I was taking in, I lost my grip and barfed all over the ceiling fan and drywall. “Deewwwd, what’s chir prooblem?” he screeched at me. I soon recovered and kneed the jerk in the crotch and elbowed him in what I thought was his chin. He toppled over and couldn’t get up; like a turtle on its back.
I repeatedly punched him in the gut until he made that wheezing sound of pain I was looking for. The sumo wrestler crashed his stubby foot into my knee, which was off guard and I reeled in pain backwards. With all the strength he could muster, he was back on his feet. “Whaat areee eeewww dooooing?!!” he yelled at me, expecting a somewhat calm response. “Doing justice!” I said as I finally decided to use my Glock. I raced toward fatty and went in with a straight punch. He struggled backwards, but my punch really didn’t do any damage to his blubber-like hide. Now, with opportunity I turned my Gun sideways (gangster w00t) and put a cap straight into his face. With a thud onto his laptop, he fell over. Now all was quiet.
I looked both ways and tried to listen past the silences, Of course the 70 year old neighbor couple would come to check on us. As quick as I can, I tied a rope to his body and made a nation’s effort to stuff it in the closet, behind the large and puffy coat that belonged to chubby. This was so easy. Now I just had to clean up the mess of blood, a broken laptop, and fan. “Screw that.” I said, and just put a chair behind the door. “I’ll get to it next week.” I thought. A last look in his room showed a burrito wrapper on the bed. So that’s why the mother of all farts was here… But as expected, neighbors knocked on the door right after the meager “clean-up” was over.
I let them in and they sat down. What had I to be grossed out about any more about? “We heard a loud ‘bang’ is everyone alright?” the woman said “Oh yes, just fine.” I said confidently. As questions continued, I felt like this was quite a breeze. Until I heard a loud and proud was unleashed around the closet area. IMPOSSIBRU! I thought. He’s dead. “Frank , was that you?” the woman said “No Marie, I swears it. I TOOK THE PILLS!” She then glared at me. A socially and mentally wimpy kid like me couldn’t handle the magnitude of crime I had just committed. “I admit the deed!” I blurted out into a cry. “P-U! Frank, share some of your pills with the nice, young neighbors!” She said, astonished. Before I knew it, I was alone, sitting at a small, dining room table, with a half full box of Gas-X.
Then the phone rang. I got up and hesitantly answered, “H-Helloooo?” Then I heard a chainsaw imitating fart over the line, longer than the amount of time it took me to say, “WHO WAS PHART?”
Originally posted on Crappypasta.com, December 22, 2012 by Jerfy
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