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Farts Are A Love Language. Argue With Your Frying Pan


Listen. If we are dating and you have never been baptised in the aroma of my amala and ewedu and vodka scented fart we are just play acting. It is the channel to which you reach my heart and soul. The sound is my gut's sexual moan of appreciation that you have fed me correct food. And so that was how I decided to bless an ex with the aura of my intestinal incense.

I had previously given hints but that fateful day was the day in which the Lord had made and I thought he would rejoice and be glad in it. We were cuddled in the sofa watching a movie. He had cooked singaporean rice medly with chicken and fish. I was stuffed to the teeth. I beared down hard expecting it to announce it's presense with a loud BRAPAPAPAPAP but instead it came out with a barely audible ssshhhhhh. In seconds the smell wafted over us and I erupted in a fit of giggles. Bae pushed my head off his shoulder and sat up. Him: What's funny ? Is something burning in the kitchen ? I held my stomach and banged my palm on the table in uncontrollable mirth. The second wave hit him from my direction and he stood, frantically waving his hand in front of his face. "You're disgusting! DISGUSTING !!" Me: " Haba ! We were both laughing yesterday when your sister's baby did this !" Him: "Are you a baby ?" Me: "I'm your baby !" Him: "YOU ARE DISGUSTING !" Chineke ! Small fart that I farted someone will look me up and down as fine as I am and call me disgusting ? That day I knew there was no future for us. That word "disgusting" gave me post relationship trauma. Many days I stood in the bathroom infront of the mirror and whispered to myself over and over again, "You are not disgusting Asake." All these of course, while releasing the most heavenly scents from betwixt two cute butt cheeks

aboutME

I wasn’t looking for a Knight.

I was looking for a sword.

I needed a hero.

So I became one

 

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