Facefarting Stories Novels & Stories

I mouth off to them, and they made up what I was saying. “I’m a Pumpernickel fart. Now that’s rude,” Gio chuckles. “She’s saying you love goat cheese,” Justine giggles. “No, Lola’s saying she wants to make goat cheese and cause us to have pumpernickel farts,” Markum finishes. I forgot what I was trying to say, as laughter is the best medicine, even if it hurts now. My silent giggle is cute, helping me forget my worries. Seeing their happy faces adds to my healing, making me feel grateful to have them.

He and his men laughed like I had told them the funniest joke ever. Human, that's a funny joke. Today is going to be fun. Let me touch your princess and see if I turn into meat. He said it in a joking way as he got closer to me. He reached out and put his hand on my cheek. I spat on his face because I didn't like him.

“You look like someone who could use a good laugh.” I raise an eyebrow. “Do I?” “Yep. Lucky for you, I’m full of stories. Did I ever tell you about the time I outran a tornado in my old pickup truck?” I blink. “I don’t think so.” He launches into a tale so animated and absurd I can’t help but laugh. “...And there I was, wind howlin’, my dog howlin’, and me screamin’ at the top of my lungs like a banshee! But we made it, me and ol’ Duke.”

I blinked a few times as I was still staring at his face. That same mischievous grin was back on his face as he pinched my cheeks and pulled them as if I was a toddler. He pulled my cheeks a little hard. "Aaaaoooo!!! Stop it. Yes, I was thinking that way. I can't help it, okay. I have learned the hardest way possible not to trust anyone. And don't touch my cheeks again. You almost ripped them off." I replied to him while rubbing my cheeks. They were burning because of the hard pull. I knew I had a pout on my face as I asked him to stop. But as he saw that pout on my face, he started laughing again. That idiot was really getting on my nerves.

carved into it. On my first day in prison, the other inmates heard that "I" had killed a child in a hit-and-run and fled the scene. So, they pinned me to the ground and branded that mark of shame onto my face. From that day on, beatings became part of my daily life. Riley froze for a moment. A trace of guilt flashed in her eyes before it disappeared. Just then, Leo Ferdinand leaned out from the passenger seat. His face had been altered, and he no longer looked quite like he used to. Then again, with Riley being one of the most renowned plastic surgeons in the country, changing someone's face was effortless for her.

“You’re blushing.” “I’m not!” “Oh, you definitely are. Your face is all red. What are you thinking of, Dala?” I bumped him with my shoulder, grinning now, for real this time. “Okay, new game,” I said. “Say something weird about yourself. No context. I’ll start. I talk to my shampoo bottles when I’m angry.” His brows furrowed. “That’s deeply concerning.” “No judgment, ex-convict. Your turn.” “I once faked fainting to avoid a family dinner.”

I smiled, intrigued by her enthusiasm, and leaned back in my chair, silently encouraging her to continue. Sophia launched into a series of stories, each one more silly and entertaining than the last. She told me about the time she had accidentally spilled coffee all over her shirt and had to walk out of the shop with a giant stain on her chest. She told me about the time she had tried to order a complicated coffee drink and had ended up with a concoction that was completely undrinkable. And she told me about the time she had met a friend at the coffee shop and had ended up getting into a heated argument with him over something ridiculous. As she talked, I found myself becoming more and more

Vera deadpanned, then smiled when he laughed, really laughed, the kind that lit up his whole face and crinkled the corners of his eyes. She liked that sound more than she cared to admit. They fell into an easy rhythm after that. Nothing serious, nothing heavy, just snippets of stories, childhood mischiefs, and mutual teasing that felt like balm after everything that had happened. He told her about sneaking out of his boarding school with his friend and getting caught three blocks away because his friend had a weak bladder and needed to pee every twenty minutes. She countered with the time she’d raced an undercover cop in a stolen motorcycle and only escaped because he’d pulled over to answer

Waving a hand in the air in dismissal, she added, “I just had to get that out there.” “I get it,” I murmured, allowing a smile to twist my lips. It was quite amusing that two thirds of the Cartelli brothers had been married off simply because of some kind of debt or rivalry with another family. But that made me the butt of the joke, too. And as if he knew what we were talking about, Armani appeared in my peripheral vision at the doorway, calling out my name. “Rose, would you like to go?”

I curl my palms to the side and count to ten. He notices the fury in my eyes yet smirks shamelessly. ‘Far better. I cannot believe you have been hiding them all this while. I am upset, ladies. I never get to see pretty faces. The young budding ladies-ah!’ The Old Bald Fart chuckles like a dirty pig taking a swig of his ‘blood frappe’. (It could be whiskey, mocktail, or plain coconut water for all I care. It’s blood-red, which makes it disgusting. His ugly pale hands around transparent glass worsen it.) His lust-dripping eyes rape Huine and me openly as he reluctantly tears it away and faces my fuming mate instead.