As many of you know, Fat Boy will not be posted after Day 10. I don't want to have a bazillion threads for Fatty, so these next few days I'll try to make the best and the funniest. I'll still continue writing Run, Fat Boy, Run! because it's so much fun, but none of you will see it. Maybe, one day, you'll walk into a store and see it. Then you'll ask yourself, "What kind of a publisher would publish this?!"

Here you go. 'o' >> That's my new signature simily.

A/N: And yes, this is insanely short. I'm sorry.

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Day Seven

Is it possible to fall in love with a girl over a fart? It was just a little squeaker, too. Nothing big. It sounded like what would happen if you sat on a deflated balloon.

I was in the school library, right, searching for the next book in my favorite series. I was alone, but then a girl entered. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brianna Pulverson. She’s not a girl that I’m very fond of talking to. She’s always ignored me and I’ve always ignored her. Well… maybe ignored isn’t the right word. We didn’t communicate. At all.

Brianna was doing this really weird thing with her hand. She would rub the book’s spine she was holding and determine if she wanted it. It was really strange. It was almost as if the book had to have a certain texture, or she wouldn’t read it. She went through dozens of books like that, and I thought she was really weird, so I was watched her. Not staring or anything. I didn’t want her to think I was a stalker.

And then she squatted, searching the bookshelf closest to the ground. That’s about the time that I heard it. As I mentioned before, it was like she had sat on a deflated balloon. It was just a squeak, but it was loud enough that she gasped and launched herself up. She spun around the room, making sure no one had heard it. Her eyes found me, and her face turned an alarming shade of scarlet.

We stared at each other for a moment. I was shocked. Completely mortified. A girl had just farted! A girl! There was about a ten second pause before I burst out laughing. I covered my mouth with my hand and turned away from her, and Brianna muttered something under her breath. It sounded like “Oh, no…”

Brianna didn’t know what to do. I was trying to keep my laugh quiet so the librarian wouldn’t yell and waddle over to us. Brianna’s face was a neon red.

“Please,” she begged, “don’t tell anyone! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do it. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?” She held her hands up defensively, and her eyes were pleading with me. They were like blue pearls.

I nodded, still laughing. Here was this perfect blonde girl, farting all over the library! It was just too funny.

“I trust you. Please don’t tell anyone.”

I think it was then that it hit me. No, not the stench of her fart, but the meaning of which she spoke. She trusted me. Trusted me. That was more than all of the other kids at school could do.

I instantly stopped laughing and stared into her eyes. She was still blushing as she turned away and scurried out of the library, leaving me breathless.

Right when I got home that day, I instantly went to my dictionary and threw it open. I looked up the word trust. This is the definition I found:

Trust -noun

Reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.

She relied on me to keep her secret safe. But not just that! According to the dictionary, she trusted my strength too. Man, I felt so high right then that I could do anything! I had never felt this before. It was a totally new experience, and I loved it. I was jittery and bouncy. For the first time in a long time, I actually wanted to lose weight. Maybe, just maybe, if I did, she would like me. Because – face it – skinny girls don’t like fat boys.