Sunday, December 20, 2015

Captive Audience by Donald Rump

Now Available!

Three men, one blonde secretary, a jammed up elevator, and a series of ghastly, deadly farts.

What could possibly go wrong?

Intended for mature (and not so mature) audiences. Approximately 3,600 words.


"You can't be serious," Barton Rinway lowered his Monday paper. "Well, it wasn't me." He shrugged and began reading again.

There was another floof, followed by the collective groan of the other three passengers in the elevator.

"If it was me, I'd have to be a world class ventriloquist—out of my ass! Clearly the sound came from the opposite side of the elevator." He gave an evil eye to the young, blonde receptionist who had recently started working at Rincon Enterprises a few weeks before. Maybeleine, he thought her name was.

"You aren't seriously going to blame me, are you?" Maybeliene glanced at the three men in the elevator.

"Well, who else could it be? Oh dear…" Barton fanned the stench away with his newspaper.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Finding Floofy by Donald Rump

Now Available!
When a man falls head over heels for a murderous fart, he has difficulty coping with her mysterious departure. Was it something he said? Something he did? Is his penis too small? None of it makes any sense. "I will find you, my darling Floofy. Even if it's the last thing I do!"

For mature (and not so mature) audiences. Approximately 4,250 words in all.

EXCLUSIVE! The Special Edition EPUB contains bonus content that can only be found on this site (an additional 1,200 words).


I still remember the first time I met you. I’d fallen from grace, much like I have now. In my pit of despair, you raised me up. Made me laugh, cry. That warm bottle of Killian’s Red smashed over my head never tasted better. Oh sweet, sweet memories, take me back to the song of yesterday…

My life had been empty till you came along. I was drinking my way towards a slow, painful death, my Catholic upbringing preventing me from ending it any sooner. The breakup with my fiancé of twelve years shattered me, and felt like a divorce and a funeral all rolled into one. For the first time in a long while, I felt vulnerable and alone. How could I ever trust another soul again?

Ten long, miserable years I’d spent earning a doctorate degree. “It will make you proud, and give you a new sense of purpose and self-worth,” my mother told me. While it helped me secure a higher paying job than my peers, it also brought with it a mountain of debt. “One day you’ll look back on this and thank me for pushing you so hard,” my mother rambled on. “A good education completes you on the highest and most honorable of levels.”

Who was I to argue? She was my mom after all, and wanted the best things for me in life. But the only thing it completed was her lofty expectations of me. Inside, I was very much the same lonely, confused child that I’d always been, and didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life yet.

“My son’s a doctor!” my parents shouted in every ear that would listen. But in reality, I was merely an expert in Turfgrass Management, and it did little to fill me.

“Turfgrass, what’s that?” said a drunken fool with a red face, bad haircut and a golden nametag that read ‘Squiggy.’ He set down his bottle and grinned. “By chance are you referring to something of the female persuasion?”

Monday, January 6, 2014

The $500 Question by Donald Rump

Available Now!
Perkins Deadwood can't believe his ears. His twelve-year-old son just asked for a pet fart for Christmas. And not just any fart, a Spanish fart. Hay caramba!

Can the used car salesman talk his son out of it? Or is this Christmas really going to stink?

For mature (and not so mature) audiences. Approximately 2,100 words.


"So, son. What would you like for Christmas?" Perkins Deadwood flashed his million-dollar smile. Thanksgiving holiday had been good to him, enabling Bottom Dollar Buick to sell half of its fleet of used cars in record time.

"Well," his twelve-year-old son Nelson scratched his head, "I'd really like a pet pedo for Christmas."

Perkins angled his head, his smile melting away. "A pedo? What's that?"

"Oh, that's Spanish for fart," Nelson smiled.

"So you want a fart for Christmas?"

"Yes, sir. But not just any fart. A Spanish fart."

"What's so special about Spanish farts?" Perkins tried to hide the horror creeping onto his face.

"I don't know. They're just spicier, like Jennifer Lopez. Didn't you say that you like your food and women spicy?"

Monday, December 9, 2013

20 Common Questions About Farts by Donald Rump

Now Available!
Think you know everything there is to know about mankind's favorite green gas? Well, Donald Rump has something in store for you!

Inside, you'll finally get to the bottom of many age-old questions, including:

- Where do farts come from?
- Are farts people?
- Do farts die?
- Do all farts go to heaven?
- What should I do if a zombie farts on me?
- Does inhaling farts cause brain damage?
- What if someone steals my farts?
- Can farts be used to power my car?
- I've run out of farts. Should I dial 911?
- Should I join Fartaholics Anonymous?

And many, many more!

So what are you waiting for? Become a fart expert today!

Approximately 11,500 words in all. Intended for readers 15 and up.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Gastrointestinal Blues by Donald Rump (Amazon Exclusive!)

Now Available!
After leaving his posh position at the Department of Motor Vehicles, Mackelroy Puggsley thought he'd smelled the last psychotic fart to rattle his feeble brain. But in his new role as a psychologist, he quickly realizes that the problem is more widespread than he imagined.

Will a crazed client and his gassy brides prevent the old man from getting one last piece of nookie? Or will Mackelroy talk his way out of another bizarre situation and live to see another hair pie?

For mature audiences. Approximately 3,400 words in all.


“So what do you think, doctor?” The sexy blond smiled.

“I’d say they’re 36DDs.” Mackelroy Puggsley gazed at her perky breasts.

“No, what do you think about everything I just said?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Schmutley. I didn’t realize you were speaking.” The old man scratched his snowy beard. He needed to get a handle on his new gig as a psychologist—next month’s rent payment depended on it! But it sure beat the hell out of filing paperwork at the DMV, a dull job that had turned surprisingly hazardous. “Would you mind repeating the last thing you said?”

Allison stared at him blankly. “So what do you think, doctor?”

“Definitely 36DDs.” He nodded. “No, wait. Tell me what you said just before that.”

“I’m not sure what to do.”

“Keep going.”

“And to make matters worse, the neighbor’s dog keeps sneaking into my house and peeing in my underwear drawer,” she said.

“Do you lock your doors and windows before leaving for work?” Mackelroy asked.


“And there aren’t any holes or secret passages that lead into the house?”

“Not unless they can come through the toilet.”

“Have you ever given your keys to a neighbor or friend?”

“Once, when I went to the Bahamas.”

“Well Miss Schmutley, I don’t think you have to worry about your neighbor’s dog anymore, and I highly doubt it’s urine.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” she exhaled. “Anything but that.”

“Most likely it’s, uh…”

“Yes, Dr. Puggsley?”

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Four Stinky Stories Volume 1 by Donald Rump

Now Available!
"…absurd, rude, vulgar and better than I expected it to be." --S.J. Nolan

"Seriously if someone needs a laugh, I highly recommend this book." --Cinisajoy

"What man doesn't think flatulence is still an important, interesting, entertaining, even exciting aspect of our everyday lives? A man who hasn't been taught the fine art of bottling a fart, that's who." --Angry Games


Celebrating the best of fart fiction, Donald Rump brings you four flatulent tales of love, betrayal and everyone's favorite green gas in one unforgettable volume.

Intended for mature audiences. Approximately 11,000 words in all.


Could the greatest power…

The path to riches beyond our wildest imagination…

The key to reaching the highest level of spiritual awareness and happiness…

…be obtained by bottling farts???

"Shh…it's our secret…" Vlad told the little boy. "Use the power wisely…"


Zack Pimpton's ass never felt worse, and it doesn't help that his doctor is a part time comedian. Unfortunately, Zack is quite the bastard himself and accidentally says the wrong thing that causes the mild-mannered doctor to snap.


Barnabus Prim has reached the end of his rope. Drowning in debt and married to an obnoxious wife who can't stand the sight of him, he decides to do the unthinkable. But finding a way to the afterlife proves more difficult than he imagined.


Mackelroy Puggsley thought he'd heard everything until an odd man named Bilby Bloob shows up in the DMV lobby one morning. When Bilby demands a marriage license for his gassy wife, the old man puts his foot down. Sure, it's one thing to marry your high school sweetheart, but a fart? Who in the world marries farts?

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Marriage Stinks by Donald Rump

Now available on Donald Rump DirectAmazon,
Barnes & NobleSmashwords and Tradebit!
Mackelroy Puggsley thought he'd heard it all until an odd man named Bilby Bloob shows up in his lobby one morning. When Bilby demands a marriage license for his gassy wife, the old man puts his foot down. Sure, it's one thing to marry your high school sweetheart, but a fart? Who in the world marries farts?

"Well I'm not going anywhere until you give us a marriage license," Bilby insisted.

"Is that so?" Mackelroy cracked his knuckles.

Marriage Stinks is a work of fart fiction. It is intended for mature audiences, and is approximately 3,500 words in length.


“Hey there, buddy.” A middle-aged man with thick, unkempt sideburns stepped up to the counter. He wore a coffee-colored t-shirt with palm trees on it and crinkly, blue shorts that fell past his knees.

“Well, good morning.” Mackelroy Puggsley took in the odd view. “How may I be of service?”

“You sell marriage licenses, right?”

“Unfortunately, we do.” Mackelroy stroked his short, snowy beard. The mere mention of marriage brought back bitter memories of his recent divorce. “But if you’d prefer a quick death, perhaps I can interest you in a motorcycle license instead,” the old man quipped.

“Nah, that’s all right. A standard marriage license will do.”

“Are you sure? It isn’t too late to change your mind. No one else has to know about it but us. It can be our secret,” Mackelroy whispered, careful not to offend any of the female patrons within earshot of him.

“Don’t worry about me. I won’t be changing my mind anytime soon. She’s a really great…uh…woman.”

“Is that so?”

“The absolute best.”

“Trust me, that’s what they all say.” Mackelroy considered the wiry, pathetic man for an instant. “Very well. But when you’re lying on your deathbed, just remember that I tried to talk some sense into you.” He reached into the drawer and pulled out a fresh certificate.

“Could you make that to go?” the man asked.

“To go? What do you think this is, some sort of fast food restaurant? I realize that cannabis is legal in the great state of Colorado and everyone’s on a rocky mountain high, but this isn’t a drive-through. It’s the DMV! Would you like a side of fries while you’re at it? How about some extra cheese for that shit sandwich that you’re serving up?” Mackelroy crossed his arms.

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