The story my friends all love

I received the best email ever today, an email which made me laugh inappropriately loudly in the bakery at lunchtime. The subject line was ‘a story about poo’ and I knew right away it was from Will; it was a story about the most embarrassing thing you could ever imagine happening to you on a date. And it happened to him, with me. Two years later, he’s agreed to tell it with me all over again…

Will and I had only been on a few dates, and I don’t know if it was his Aussie charm or something else entirely but things moved pretty fast. The first night I invited him over to mine, we ordered a takeaway, had a few laughs and it got pretty late.

In the early hours, I was woken by Will hobbling through to my bathroom. I began drifting back to sleep, but stirred again as I heard some faint, odd noises. Wide awake now, I realised he’d been away for ages…then the sound came again. It was like a machine churning, was my flush acting up again?

Will’s story: They always say never re-heat chicken, well I was one of those people that ignored that rule because it tasted so good. Unfortunately, at somewhere between 2am and 3am, the worst thing imaginable happened to me. Food poisoning is now among some of the worst experiences I would never want to re-visit. Hunched over with both hands around my stomach, I swiftly made my way to the bathroom to wait for the inevitable. After about ten minutes of waiting, the dry-retching started, and then the spewing; but little did I know my body had made other plans that it forgot to tell me about. Without warning, everything inside me decided to change direction and use another exit point. Now, what made this whole situation worse is that I didn’t manage to get my pants down in time, or in easy to explain terms, I basically ‘sh*t my pants’. After working through that problem and cleaning myself up, I still had the issue of grubby underwear and how the f*ck am I going to break the news to the girl I’ve only seen on two or three other separate occasions.

I honestly thought I could hear the birds starting to chirp outside before Will’s return. I peered at him in the dark and he sort of deflated at the end of my bed. Asking if he was okay, he said ‘I am now’, and I feared for the condition of my bathroom. Then he turned over and lay face down on my bed. ‘Something really embarrassing’s happened’. I was prepared for this.

‘Did you block my toilet?’

‘No, it’s worse,’

‘Did you sh*t on my walls?!’

‘No, it’s worse,’

Scenes from the movie ‘Bridesmaids’ filled my mind; I pictured my shower curtain crumpled in a heap on the floor, the lightshade swinging back and forth and the window shattered.

‘I sh*t my pants,’

Will’s story: I walked back into the bedroom feeling much better after that little explosive episode mind you; but, with a look on my face as if I was about to say my mother had just died, I sat down on the end of the bed and started to explain the situation by stating: ‘I have something really embarrassing I have to tell you’. For about 30 seconds to a minute I sat there quietly trying to think up a way to break the news without it being super embarrassing, but with nothing coming to mind I eventually turned to her and said, ‘I sh*t my pants’. All I can remember after that moment was that she took it surprisingly well and she still let me stay the night as long as I remained the big spoon.

I processed the words fairly fast. Will didn’t realise at the time that my main concern was for my bathroom, and once I’d established that it was untarnished, I thought about the misery and humiliation he must be feeling. I must not laugh. Just to be clear, he wasn’t wearing the offending article in my room, he had an outer layer on so we were all safe.

We managed to sleep, but not for long before I had to get up early for my favourite class, creative storytelling. Well, did I have a story now. I was dreading going for my shower, but actually the bathroom seemed fairly normal. My flatmate at the time, James, was home for once, so I decided I should just leave Will there rather than risk moving him. Imagine if he had another episode on the bus home.

On the way back, I picked up the essentials: a toothbrush (this looks like someone moving too fast, but believe me it was just because he’d been sick), tomato soup, Immodium, and lemonade. My Mum always told me to drink warm lemonade when I was sick.

By the time I got back he was sitting up in bed, telling me how bored he’d been staring at the art on my wardrobe doors.

I guess we hadn’t gotten round to exchanging wifi passwords just yet.

 

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2 Comments

  1. Jean Smith
    18th February 2017 / 8:43 pm

    Poor guy! You really can’t re-heat chicken haha!

    • notevie
      18th February 2017 / 11:10 pm

      Lesson learned I hope!

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