Sunday, September 1, 2013

Going Dutch by Donald Rump is now available!

Now available at Amazon!
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 much more difficult than he imagined.

For mature audiences. Approximately 2,800 words.


It was a dark, dreary night. So dark, in fact, that Barnabas Prim couldn’t see his dick once he yanked it out and peed on his wife’s brand new Lexus. She’d washed it just the day before, the third time this week. Could this already be the Lexus’ fourth golden shower? It deserved many more—until its sleek, dark exterior turned a radioactive shade of yellow. “Take that, you mean, old bitch!” He hosed it down good.

The capricious, old fool hated the Lexus just as much as his wife Priscilla, and swore that she preferred the car’s stick shift to his. Sure, his was wrinkly and tired and about to fall off, but she was supposed to help him with such things. Gone were all those hot, steamy nights, when she gave Willy some much-needed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. That was twenty years ago. Now she wouldn’t touch it even if it were made of solid fucking gold.

“She should have married the fucking car instead.” He zipped his pants and walked up the driveway. The house lights were off and no doubt she was already fast asleep. That parasite! “I hope you rot in hell!” He shook his fist.

The Chapped-Ass Critic by Donald Rump is now available!

Now available at Amazon!
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 good, old doctor to snap.

Approximately 2,300 words.


"Doc, you’ve got to help me," a thin, wiry man named Zack Pimpton bent over the padded table and rubbed his behind. "My ass hurts really, really bad. I think I might have broken it." A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

"How did this happen?" Dr. Marsh asked.

"I don't know. I was typing up a review when suddenly my butt began to hurt. At first it was just a little. I tried to ignore it, but it got worse until I eventually found myself here. It's terrible. I can’t believe I was able to drive over here." He tried sitting and recoiled immediately.

"Well, you're in luck! It's nothing life-threatening, that’s for sure, but I'm afraid you won’t have use of your buttocks again," the portly doctor cracked a smile.

Bottling Farts by Donald Rump is now available!

Now available at Amazon!
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…"

Approximately 2,200 words.


Henry Winkle wasn’t your ordinary pint-sized little bastard. He was an exceptionally evil turd who enjoyed taunting others, even giants that towered over him and could crush his tiny, Raisinet balls with ease. No wonder the miscreant was held back an entire year, and his parents had no choice but to send him to the Catholics after he was expelled from the public school across the street. Just two weeks at his new school, he’d already pissed off most of the faculty, notably the soft-spoken Father Amos (or was it Anus?) who embraced everyone, even demonically possessed little shits who enjoyed super gluing nuns to chairs. When his parents received word of Henry’s latest exploits—swapping holy water with toilet water at the front of the church—they wondered if he might be better off at military school. Perhaps they should just load him into a cannon and fire in the direction that they thought Fork Union Military Academy was.

Hell, it was worth a shot.