TLME Bathroom

It was December 2001. I had begun dating a female comic who we’ll call Jen (not her real name) a few weeks earlier that just so happened to be the roommate of Liam M. This was a little bit weird at first, simply due to his stealthily ninja like way about him. For a big guy he was able to move through the apartment unnoticed, we were never quite sure if he was there or not. We would enter and he would be hidden in his room away from the common rooms of the apartment, then there would be a door closing and locking. He would be gone.

It was a weeknight, Jen and I were out doing some show together, we had decided to get some type of cheap food and then head over to her place. We were both feeling healthy at this point. It was around 9 or 10PM when we swung on by the Ray’s pizza on 7th Avenue and 53rd Street. I ordered two slices and a soda. We got our food and went up the few steps to the seating area to eat.

I ate a few bites, and had all of a sudden been consumed by stomach pains. I excused myself to find a restroom at which point I would contemplate what I should do, a one or a two. The restroom was down a long narrow staircase, it was small, with just enough room for one person to do business while three people waited outside the stall, and the entire floor was wet from some unknown liquid.

After impatiently waiting for my turn to use the head I was up to the plate and decided to lay a punt by just peeing. It was a number one. I felt good about this, because the restroom was drenched, smelled awful, and it my body felt slightly better.

I headed upstairs to finish my food. I sat there and attempted to finish my pizza and couldn’t. For those who are not in the know, I am a huge fan of pizza, and to not finish my pizza would mean that something is wrong. Jen and I had decided to head off to her place where I could rest.

Not thinking clearly due to my body feeling as though a dead mouse was rotting inside of it my mind didn’t make good decisions, and we ended up taking the subway to her place. Not only did we take the subway, but when we were at the Queens bound 49th Street N/R stop, we got on the N train instead of the R.

Thankfully on the N train I was able to get a seat. I sat there feeling and thinking my body would explode. My guts were tight as can be, and my throat felt as though it was two centimeters short from giving birth.

I was definitely going to be sick.

I looked at Jen and informed her of my dire situation, she suggested that I drink come ginger ale when we got to her place, and that her place would not have any ginger ale, so we better stop off along the way and pick some up.

The subway ride just got worse, and by the time we got to Queensboro Plaza we were not only on the wrong line, but I could no longer withstand the movement of the subway.

We got off the subway and I was breathing heavily, which is a sure shot sign that I had immanent sickness on the way. We asked a strange guy standing on the street how to get back to the Queens Blvd subway lines, and he informed us that it was a hike over to the subway entrance that would get us home. I wasn’t going to make it.

We stopped in a bodega and bought a ginger ale. I have never been a fan of ginger ale, and I sipped it with utter disgust. Nothing was happening to my stomach, it was supposed to calm my stomach. My stomach wasn’t supposed to still be in knots.

We decided that a cab back to her place would be a good idea. We got in, and said, “Rego Park”.

I sat in the back seat with the window down as far as it could go, and fought off the desires my body was telling me to just let go and be sick all over the cab.

I don’t know if this cabbie knew that I was going to be sick, or if he just knew how to get there fast, but it seemed as though we were flying along to her place. Although it was bumpy and unstable, I knew that the faster we got there, the quicker I would have a toilet if needed and a bed to rest my body.

When we got to her place there was no sign of Liam. This did not mean he was not there, and as a fellow comic he held very odd hours as it were, so we assumed he wasn’t there and that he was on his way home. I took off my jacket, and carefully sprawled out across Jen’s bed.

My stomach was in pains that I had never felt before. I wasn’t sure if I needed to poop, or barf, and I sure as heck didn’t want to find out. I kept sipping the ginger ale hoping that it would magically make my body feel normal again.

Then I decided that I needed to get my clothes off because I was feeling hot. I stripped off my shirt, socks, and jeans. This left me butt naked, as this was a time in my life when I rarely ever wore underwear.

Knowing that I might poop, Jen didn’t want to risk my pooping on her bed and had me put on a pair of her sweatpants. I did as she wished and now lay there in sweatpants that were eight inches too short.

I tried to sleep and was unable to just pass out.

Then I felt it. I still wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew that I had to get to the restroom. I walked very carefully over to the restroom, opened the toilet, pulled down the sweats and sat on the toilet seat.

It would all be soon over, with my body releasing the inner foul that hurt my insides, or so I thought.

Pains wracked my abdomen. Then I could feel that I was definitely going to have some kind of number two. Then, with a painful tiny push whatever was inside that felt like rotting rats came out my butt with a fiery sensation and fell into the water.

I looked down and saw a brown rod. It kind of looked like the rod that save Homer Simpson and the shuttle crew when they were in space on the Simpsons. Only this one was brown and it was dissolving.

My poop had apparently gone effervescent on me. I could see the brown liquid cloud begin to consume all of the water and then it hit the top, which allowed it to breathe, and then I smelled the awful truth.

My poop was liquid and it was the rankiest of all ranky poop that I have ever smelled – either mine or that from some others butt.

I flushed the toilet immediately. More came out. More of the same liquid poop rod came out, and more smell of death came out of the bowl. I flushed and flushed.

Then I thought that I was done. I cleaned up, then went back to bed, and attempted to rest.

Not more than five minutes later I found myself hobbling over to the restroom again. I crumpled to my knees and was dry heaving over the bowl. Then I felt the need to poop again, I sat up on the bowl and immediately had the very same liquid poop rod diarrhea squirts.

With each new batch of liquid rod that hit the water my head was getting lighter and lighter. I was extremely nauseous, and felt as though I was going to pass out. I got up and walked with the sweatpants around my ankles as fast as I could to Jen’s bedroom door. I couldn’t speak, so I just banged on the door and motioned for her to follow me in the same way that Lassie would do if Timmy were in trouble.

She followed me to the restroom, where I sat on the toilet and had even more liquid diarrhea rods drop into the water, I informed her that I felt like I might pass out, and I just wanted her there to call an ambulance right away if I did pass out.

I couldn’t take the smell anymore, so I kept flushing the toilet with each stinky squirt. It was my only defense from the smell. I flushed the bowl so many times that Jen started to scream at me thinking that I was going to break the toilet bowl, which would have been awful, since it would have left a huge bowl of fully liquid diarrhea in the bowl.

I pleaded with her to let me keep flushing due to the smell of death that my body was releasing. She ran to her bedroom and lit a bunch of incense, then brought it all into the restroom in an attempt to make it smell normal again.

The incense was not working. My butt kept shooting loads of liquid brown poop out and the room quickly became overfilled with too many smells. I was going to barf.

I could feel the heaves coming, and when I thought my butt closed up for a moment from the liquid poops I quickly turned around to vomit when it happened.

As my butt was lifted off of the seat and my head going down to the seat to barf, I prematurely barfed. Spewing vomit all across the side of the tub, and behind the toilet, while this was happening my butt opened up, and shot out a load of liquid rod diarrhea. This landed on the floor and inside my Jen’s sweatpants.

I dropped to the floor and barfed some more into the bowl. Then flushed, I sat back up on the bowl and continued the parade of liquid rod poop.

Jen stood in the doorway with a mortified look on her face and looked white as a ghost, and asked, “Did you…just…the floor…my pants?”

I looked and did not want to believe what had just happened. I said, “I don’t think it’s poop.” I’ll clean up the vomit though.

Jen walked away, got some paper towels, handed them to me and I cleaned up while I sat on the toilet continuing my sickness.

When I felt as though I was done completely, I cleaned up, through out the sweatpants, gave the look around, and made sure that no more diarrhea and vomit was anywhere, and went to bed.

The next morning Jen and I took a cab back to my place in Brooklyn. I was broke, and had to go inside for cash. When I got three steps in I could feel it wanting to happen again.

I took my jacket off and crouched down at the toilet barfing. Jen asked about the cab. I told her where she could find $50, and told her to just give it all to the driver. I continued to be sick like this for the next day or so, barfing and vomiting.

At the time I was working at a store in Brooklyn, and had to take nearly a week off due to the sickness. When I was feeling better I stopped by the store to show my face, and buy some much needed toilet paper, since I went through a ton of it in the previous couple of days.

While there one of the cashiers came up to me and gave me a bug hug saying, “Beehive, I’ve missed you so much.”

I didn’t hug her back and warned, “Amy, you really don’t want whatever virus I just had. You might not want to hug me.”

She quickly unhugged me, and said, “Eww, you had a stomach virus. Gross.”

A day or two later I was feeling strong enough to work again, and when I went back to work Amy was out sick. A week went by and Amy came back to work shocked.

She went on to explain that it first started when she was at school, and that she had to go home sick. Then how she was shooting out liquid diarrhea and barfing for a few days,. She also went on to say that more than half of the senior class at her high school was out sick, and that she was pretty sure that they all had the same nasty virus, from her, who got it from me.

All in all it was one filthy virus in more ways that one, I don’t want to ever be so sick like that again in my life, I’m kind of nauseous having written this whole thing, and to this day I still wonder, does Liam know what happened?