Death By Dad Farts Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

He could make you feel small with just a look, and that stupid smirk of his could annoy me so much. “He died unexpectedly.” I started. I hadn’t talked about my dad’s death in some time. Once I was pregnant, that took all the attention away from everything else. "Mom called me, telling me dad had died. He was sick and had pneumonia, but nothing really serious. Healthy people don’t die from having pneumonia.” “So what happened?" Cas asked, his thumb moving back and forth over my stomach.

Suddenly, the heavy metal door was thrown open with such force it slammed against the wall. My father, Marcus , burst in first. He wore an expensive tailored suit, his hair perfectly combed, but his face was etched with impatience and anxiety. "What in the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his voice sharp as a whip. "You called us here in a rush without explanation..." His words trailed off as his eyes scanned the room—under the cold fluorescent lights, the partially covered body on the autopsy table, and Damine, slumped on the floor as if he'd aged ten years in an instant.

However, me and my mom got creative just to poke fun at the old man. The funny thing about this whole selective amnesia thing is that me and my mom have the power to laugh at dad’s picture whenever and however we want. We made this backstory that dad died in a stampede at a strip club and while it’s pretty hilarious, it’s also ironic because dad just left us for his stripper woman. “Some hateful bitch sprayed something on my eye at work.” I spat. “HAHAHA, for real?” Jayler was laughing and it’s nice to see him like that. “What did you do?”

Which in English meant : The story of a dead woman. Dad was never one to read books so why would he keep a book that had a creepy title hidden inside his drawer? Curiosity got the best of me, making me pick up the book and sit down in Dad's office chair as I opened the book where I was immediately met by the first chapter. Chapter One: Le jour de ma première mort It was never easy to make a life changing decision but I never knew how that felt… because I never made my own decisions. Not once.

I ran upstairs, waving my hands in the air as I coughed at the amount of dust I inhaled when I reached the second floor. Damn you, Fiona! You grow up here, and you just ditch the place like that. So ungrateful! I slowly turn the knob of my father's bedroom. Everything was still the same. Even the books that fell on the floor when I threw them after learning of his death. My heart wrenched as I picked up the book. “Everything has a reason.” I read the title. Maybe… Everything has a reason. His death, my baby’s death, being accused as a murderer… Dante approached and helped me.

The house reeked of alcohol, and it looked like the house hasn't been cleaned for days. "Dad? Hey, what are you doing? Are you drunk? Where's mom?" "Your mom? Your mom is dead. I got her cremated three days ago." "What? No! That's a very bad joke, Dad!" I felt like I'm losing my ability to breathe. It's like my body is shutting down. Soon I felt my knees on our tiled floor. How could that happen? It's my fault. I shouldn't have left. I never should have left.

- Did you buy that shit? - Of course. Guess what? “Dad” died. - She smiled. - "Dad" real, or daddy fake? I asked, frowning. - Real daddy. That's why I'm leaving... Should I open a sparkling wine to celebrate, like you did when Jardel kicked off? – she looked at me. - I think we can leave the sparkling wine for fake daddy. It even deserves a sparkling bath in Babylon. - I suggested . - Good idea, Baby. When this one is gone I'll even pay for his funeral. To be able to make a fraud and have the body thrown in a mass grave.

I gasped when he stabbed me again, but this time he took a step back and stared at me like I was his masterpiece. "No, no. You can't die yet. I'm about to tell you who's behind your parent's death. Oh, by the way, your dad committed suicide a couple of years because he was unable to clear his debts. Sad, isn't it?" he asked, and I heard a bunch of men laughing around him. They were just watching me get injured and having fun at my expense, and I couldn't even see them. "Wha—" I tried to talk, but I felt really weak. Was this really how I would die? But I needed to see Lance first. I needed to tell him he hadn't gained any weight.

In a modest hospital ward, Artie held my hand and said to me, “Mom, if I die, could you please not tell Dad right away? He’s a great hero. I don’t want him to be upset.” Four days ago, my son had an asthma attack. In a panic, I grabbed Logan as he was heading out and begged him to drive Artie to the hospital. His mind, though, was preoccupied with picking up Jenny Horne and her child, and he simply shook off my hands.

She was telling me to keep shut, and overwhelming relief I had never experienced washed over me. He pulled her to his side, and he couldn't stop talking and talking and driving me insane, and I watched with fascination as the knife slowly came out. Just before mom could raise it, a guard yelled in urgency, “Master, she has a knife!” And the next thing we heard were gunshots, both aimed at Dane, hitting him mercilessly on his arm and thigh, from my father like he always clocked her. I died. I died. I just…I passed away. My heart completely gave up on me. My chest tightened as I tried to exhale, and that's when I lost it, I went into a series of screams, my throat burned at the weight, and I c