≡ Libro Gratis Finding Floofy - edition by Donald Rump. Literature & Fiction eBooks @ .

Finding Floofy - edition by Donald Rump. Literature & Fiction eBooks @ .

Download As PDF : Finding Floofy - edition by Donald Rump. Literature & Fiction eBooks @ .

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? Was 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 4,400 words in all.

EXCERPT FROM FINDING FLOOFY

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 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 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 secure me a higher paying job, 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 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 an expert in Turfgrass Management, and it did little to fill me.

“Turfgrass, eh? 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 burped. “By chance are you referring to something of the female persuasion?”