Sprout Ch. 08

And instead of air, liquid came out. I tried to sit up and more came out. I flung back the covers, and my bed was covered in crap! It stunk like hell! My thoughts zeroed in on the coincidence of Mac's taunts last night and I was struck with shame:

You didn't shit the bed, did you Sprout?

My stomach fluttered again, and I couldn't afford to think. I quickly ran to the bathroom, trailing drips of diarrhea onto Erica's stockings and all over the carpet. Then I pulled down the gooey panties, sat down on the toilet and let rip a massive flow of liquid refuse.

What the fuck?!

Then I saw the counter in front of me. A bottle of Milk of Magnesia lay on its side without a cap. Empty.

Beside it was a box of Tide sitting on top of a mesh bag, and next to that a bottle of carpet cleaner. My gaze lifted to see a note taped to the mirror:

Rinse intimates thoroughly then place in garment bag. Wash on delicate cycle. Dry on gentle 15 min. Don't come late or underdressed to Shakespeare lecture.

"Arggggghhhhhhh!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, causing me to send another deluge into the toilet bowl below.

A primal urge seethed from deep within, an all-consuming inferno of hellfire and fury:

REVENGE!