Death By Dad Farts Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"Honey, I know the loss of your loved ones has hit you hard, but you need to take good care of yourself, too. We still have Billy. If something happens to you, too, what will Billy and I do?" Every time he tricked me into drinking it, I would hear Dad's voice. But the so-called "predictions" from Dad? It was all just Felix—no, Malcolm—messing with my head, deliberately trying to make me believe that something supernatural had happened. Dad, Asher, Jasper, even Billy—they had all died at Malcolm's hands. He had murdered them all! I had already pieced all this together in my previous life. And I'd already called the cops after Billy died as well.

"Dad, if you were here, you would know what to do, what to tell me." I pulled my knees up to my chest and cried even harder. I had searched the Book of the Living Gem all week and found nothing. Nothing helpful. "Dad... If only..." I felt a warmth fill the room. My eyes were closed, but I could see a stream of light through my eyelids. "What the…" I raised my head and nearly passed out from shock. “D… Dad? How…” His hand was out. I was skeptical, my heart racing. Dad was dead. How was… how was this possible?

It’s my dad’s voice screaming. “Turn that off!” “Look mum isn’t this you? Dad?” “Turn that off!” My breathing gets weird. Short. Fast. Like I ran up ten flights of stairs but I didn’t. My chest feels tight, hot, like someone lit a match inside it. “My father, Andrew Wilson…” I hear myself. At the funeral. Standing there in black. “Was a dick.” Gasps. “You call him a visionary.” “And I hope his murderer of a wife joins him soon.”

"That's morbid!" Jacob only chuckled, shaking his head. "And guess what, Samuel? The average American lives to be seventy-eight." He shot Dad a wicked grin. "So statistically speaking, you’ll be rotting away long before me. Plus, with your sins? You’re headed straight for hell, buddy." Dad’s smirk disappeared. "You piece of—" "Can you both just stop?" Clara groaned, slamming the knife down and giving them both a glare. "Every time there's peace, you two turn it into a competition. Grow up, for God's sake."

I left the room before he could see my burning cheeks. “Dad?" I edges slowly into his study with my peace offering, a tray of his favourite sandwiches and a glass of lemon juice. My dad always spent more time in his study than in his room. But he always made time for us, he was at all my baseball games and my sister's piano perfomances. He was the very definition of a super dad. Tati and I were lucky to have him. He never made us feel like our mother was dead. He screened all our housekeepers himself, and fired them as soon as they made us feel uncomfortable. The last one I left with him, Carla, was nowhere in the house and I wanted to ask him what had happened. I dropped the tray on his org

he stuttered and watched as his brother released an evil laughter . “As much as I can remember, Dad died due to illness, so how the heck are you responsible for his death?” Derek added, not minding his brother’s annoying laughter. “Oh, Derek, how naïve are you?” Dave replied. “Well, it was simple: I removed his oxygen for 30 minutes, and I must confess I enjoyed watching as he struggled to breathe before he finally died.” He laughed again, and this time Derek was forced to attack him. He picked himself up and rushed towards his brother, but he stopped in his tracks, when Dave lifted the knife, threatening to divide his daughter’s throat if he moved another inch.

The air in my lungs feels strange… and I find myself laughing them out. Again, dad was the comedian…right? “D…” He glares at me, making me shudder and replace the word. “Han, five hundred thousand dollars….I mean, we’re poor, Dad. There’s still so much debt from the medical fees we incurred before you died. Mom…” The sound of his hysterical laughter stops me in my tracks.

I opened it with shaking fingers. Alan: my dad is dead