Exceptional The aftermath of a meal gone wrong Deadly Date - Part 2 by Roxanna Andrews

End of Part 1 Jake took my hand as we walked. Poor guy, I thought, If he only knew he was holding hands with the equivalent of a nitrogen bomb. But in a way it could work to my advantage. If anything were to 'escape', I could drag him with me to get him out of the line of fire, and there was little doubt there would be a number of escapees. After each one, I walked quickly ahead bringing Jake along under the pretense that I had seen something and wanted to get a closer look. "Oh look!" I said, dragging him with me at almost a full run. "That's a pile of dead leaves," Jake informed me.. "Oh, I thought it was a frog." It looked nothing like a frog. He laughed. I was so glad he had a sense of humor; he was going to need it. ************************************************* I could not help but feel bad for those who came behind me. I would hear, "What is that?" and "I think there is a dead animal somewhere around here." My need for relief was becoming apparent once again when we passed a shop and through the window, I saw "Restrooms" on a sign. "I'm so sorry but I drank so much water at dinner, I'm going to need to use the restroom again," I half lied. "Why don't you wait out here and I'll be just a minute." I didn't want him anywhere within hearing or smelling distance. I prayed the restroom would be empty and then prayed it was sound proof. I tried to be as quiet as I could and did courtesy flushing like mad, but once again the smell lived on with a life of it's own. I had to cover my nose with toilet paper to keep from passing out. By now, things were feeling like hot lava, and I gripped the side of the seat to keep from screaming, my eyes watered. I knew I would have to give up and go home. I slowly opened the door hoping no one would be waiting to use the facilities after me. I didn't want to be responsible for a death. I was in pain and could hardly walk. I knew I was looking bad. My hair had wilted and sweat made it stick to my forehead. I tried to fluff it up a bit, but there was no fluffing. "Jake," I said looking as sorry as I felt. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling well and I need to go home. I'm so sorry. "You do look a little green," he said. "Maybe Indian food wasn't the best idea. I'm the one who's sorry." I thought, you are going to be really sorry on the ride home. "It's okay." No it's not! "But I'm not sure I can walk to the car, would you mind going to get it and picking me up here?" I asked. As I talked, I brought my foot down on a little rock that caused my ankle to twist and I almost fell. As Jake reached out to catch me, I farted, but it was not an SBD (silent but deadly) it was an LAD (loud and deadly). I was mortified! As I turned three shades of red, Jake just laughed. He helped me to a little half brick wall so I could sit, and he could barely walk, he was laughing so hard. I had to laugh too. I had always found farts funny, but in hind sight, pardon the play on words, it was not a wise decision on my part, the added pressure caused many more LADs to escape unimpeded. Jake almost fell off the wall. "You won't be laughing in about three second when this cloud of horrific... I can't even describe it, hits you." I saw his eyes bug, then water. He moved about thirty feet down the wall and was in complete hysterics. People made a wide berth around me, and a couple at a table near by just got up and left, leaving at almost a dead run. "Sorry," I said softly. "I'll go get the car," Jake yelled when he was able to talk. "Will you be okay?" "Yes, but I can't say the same for anyone who might unwittingly venture into the kill zone," I yelled back. He went into hysterics again, then recovered and broke into a run to get the car. I could not believe what was happening. I was sure I would not be going out with Jake again. I was going to have to change churches, maybe even get a new identity, and all new friends. I sighed and realized my ankle was throbbing. I looked down and it had swelled to twice it's size. Oh, great! He was going to have to help me to the car. Could this night get any better?! I stood and tried to walk but it wasn't going to happen. I just prayed he wouldn't have to carry me, it would be like carrying a loaded weapon with a loose trigger. Jake pulled up with the car and I just put my hands up and shrugged. He got out and came over. "I'm so sorry. I can't walk." He looked at my ankle. "That looks pretty bad. Just a minute." He ran into a convenience store and bought some ice and paper towels. He put them in the front seat of his car then came back for me. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. He laughed. "I haven't laughed this hard in years." He pulled me to my feet, put an arm around my waist, and got me to the car. Once in, he covered my ankle in paper towels and placed the small bag of ice on it. He was so nice. I felt I didn't deserve it. "You may want to roll down all your windows and drive like a bat out of hell," I told him. On the way home, there were a few more LADs, the windows were rolled down, and a bit more pressure applied to the gas pedal. (Another play on words. =) He had to pull over twice from laughing so hard. I was glad he found it so amusing and didn't want to sue. He helped me to my apartment, and took my keys to gallantly open my door for me. Once I was safely inside, he helped me to my room, which thankfully had a bathroom. I had turned the TV on in the living room full blast just in case the double wall buffer wasn't adequate. I blissfully relieved my burden in the comfort of my own bathroom. I took a hand full of tums hoping for a miracle and hobbled back to the living room. "Do not go back there unless you have death wish," I said. He went into hysterics for a while, and than had me elevate my leg with the ice pack. He kindly got a towel from my kitchen so water wouldn't go all over my coffee table from the melting ice. "I went through all your cupboards and drawers while you were busy to find these," he handed me some ibuprofen and a glass of water. 'I only stole a few things." "Good, I only have a few things worth stealing and you earned it." He laughed as he headed for the door. "I'll call you tomorrow to see how you are." "Are you kidding me? I figure you'd delete my phone number as soon as you closed the door and change your name." "No way! Stay off the ankle and I'll call." "Thank you so much. I really don't deserve you." He smiled and gave me a thumbs up. "I have your door key so I can lock this for you. I'd leave it under the door mat, but I don't like that idea. I figure you won't be going anywhere and I'll get it back to you. I usually don't break into homes until around two a.m., just so you know." "Believe me, you will not be wanting to break in here anytime soon." I heard him laughing outside my door as he locked it. He did call the next night and inquired as to how I was and if it was safe to come over. He wanted to bring me dinner to make up for the night before. He promised it would be something bland. "I think I'm all out of ammo, but come at your own peril." Totally hysterics on the other end. He showed up at my door an hour later with dinner and my key. He just happened to be a massage therapist, how could I be so lucky, and had three years of med school before realizing he couldn't cut people open or stitch them up. He had many medical type things so he brought wraps and ointments and massaged my ankle, which made it feel surprisingly better, at least that's what I told him. What a guy, all this for a girl who almost killed him or at the very least scarred him for life. He called every day after that and came by every weekend and then during the week. Last month we celebrated our second wedding anniversary. I can only say, he is one tough dude. I have had no more deadly episodes since that night, but that day will live in infamy, forever etched on my brain, and his. Our first date is his favorite story to tell and he still laughs just as hard as he did that night. You never know what will appeal to a guy. Who would have thought you could bond over diarrhea, men are so weird. I am so fortunate to have found this wonderful guy, with a great sense of humor and weak sense of smell.   Author Notes Why is gas so funny? Of course SBD's are never funny. Thanks for reading and be careful what you eat out there.

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