“This book is the first one I’ve read that ends with a fart, and I’m now 100% convinced ALL books should end on a fart.
Frankenstein:
He sprang from the cabin-window as he said this, upon the ice raft which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance. Alone at last, he cranked out a long-held fart.
Dracula:
âWe want no proofs; we ask none to believe us! This boy will some day know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is. Already he knows her sweetness and loving care; later on he will understand how some men so loved her, that they did dare much for her sake.â
And with that, Van Helsing blasted a dank one in the child’s face.
Wuthering Heights:
I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth. And with a whisper of a fart, I added to that wind and made the sky less benign, if immeasurably so.
Hard Times:
Dear reader! It rests with you and me, whether, in our two fields of action, similar things shall be or not. Let them be! We shall sit with lighter bosoms on the hearth, to see the ashes of our fires turn gray and cold, and we shall sit with lighter guts as well, expelling the gases of our insides into that cool night. “