Toilet Gator – Chapter 4

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“Unggggghhh…”

Chad moaned and groaned as Britney and Paul rolled him over.

“Do you feel any better?” Britney asked.

Chad responded with a deep, baritone belch. “BRAAAAP!”

The music had been cut. No one was dancing anymore. Everyone stood around, staring at the scene that was unfolding before their eyes.

Paul locked his arms underneath Chad’s armpits and helped his pal stand up. “Come on, man. You gotta walk it off.”

Beads of sweat dripped from Chad’s forehead. He looked dizzy. His knees wobbled. It became clear Paul wouldn’t be able to hold the patient by himself, so Britney inserted herself underneath Chad’s right arm, while Paul took the left.

“I love you guys so much,” Chad said in the midst of a stupor. “Really. I don’t say that enough.”

Paul patted Chad on the back. “I love you too, buddy.”

Chad looked to Britney, eagerly waiting for a response.

“Only as friends,” Britney said.

“Aww,” Chad lamented.

“We’re never getting back together, Chad,” Britney said.

“Aww, but baby…”

Chad’s protestations were interrupted by a loud stomach gurgle, followed by an unceremonious hurl all over the dance floor.

“Oh God,” Chad said as he came up for air and wiped chunks of his lunch off of his mouth with his shirt sleeve. “Guess there was an aftershock.”

“Come on,” Britney said. “We need to get you to a…”

Almost as if on cue, a foghorn style gas explosion bursted out of Chad’s rear end. The smell was followed by a terrible sight. Britney’s jaw dropped as she noticed the backside Chad’s once pristine blue jeans had turned a disgusting shade of brown.

“…bathroom!” Britney shouted.

Chad went delirious. His head slumped to one side. He could barely keep his eyes open. “Chaddy wants sleepy.”

“No,” Britney said as she and Paul maneuvered Chad through the packed frat house. “No sleepy for Chad now.”

“Move it!” Chad shouted. “Out of the way, people! We’ve got a sick man, here!”

As the trio approached the bathroom, they found a long line that was at least twenty five people deep.

“Outta the way!” Paul shouted.

A horrendously dressed hipster, complete with an obnoxious fedora, sweater vest, dirt beard and Buddy Holly glasses stood at the back of the line. He flipped when he saw Chad being hurried past everyone who was waiting.

“Hey!” the hipster shouted as he pulled a pair of earbuds out of his ear. “You can’t just cut everyone!”

“Back off, you Justin Timberlake wannabe bitch!” Britney shouted.

“No!” the hipster cried. “I’ve been standing in this line for an hour!”

“Look,” Paul said. “I’ve got a dude that’s blowing up here. Just shut up and listen to your boy band.”

The hipster pushed the pause button on his phone’s music player. “It’s post developmental fifth wave funk with just a dab of East European experimental tribal ska, I’ll have you know.”

Chad burped and farted at the same time. “The Spazenbrau wants out!” Chad shouted. “Oh for the love of God and all things holy, the Spazenbrau wants out!”

“Mother of God!” Paul cried. “It’s coming out of both ends!”

“Why is this line so long?” Britney asked.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but I totes heard a rumor that Jeff Bixby is totally finger banging Sarah Leominster in there,” the hipster said.

Britney rolled her eyes. “Come on. We need to find another bathroom.”

“Hey man,” Paul said to the hipster. “Do you know where the nearest bathroom is?”

The hipster pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger. “I do know of many other bathrooms, but I doubt you have ever heard of them.”

“BLEAAAAHHH!” Chad projectile vomited all over the hipster’s face, coating the ultra trendy weirdo with a heaping helping of sticky goo.

The trio took off, but a Goth girl all in black stopped by to offer the hipster a napkin.

“Thanks,” the hipster said as he wiped off his glasses.

“No problem,” the Goth girl replied. “Looks like you got blasted pretty good there.”

“Yeah,” the hipster said. “Say, do you want to get a locally sourced, gluten free, artisanal vegan scone at a co-op owned cafe sometime?”

“I would,” the Goth girl said. “But I am already promised to Azaglotz, Dark Lord of the Sadistic Realm.”

The hipster popped in his ear buds and unpaused his music. “Damn it. The hot ones are always taken.”

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