“I’m going to call you fart face.” “Over my dead body,” he roars. “It’s a term of endearment,” I defend even though I’m chuckling. “How is calling someone a flatulent gas cloud a term of endearment?” “Because I wouldn’t dare call other people that. And I think it suits you. When you’re grumpy, you always look like you have a fart stuck in you. Therefore, you’re fart face.” “Can you grow up like a few years?” “Would you rather be called something like . . . penis breath?”
