It was the first morning of a brand new internship which Jack had fought hard to get. Filled with hope and dreams of making the best impression possible, he hopped chirpily onto the tube and sat down on the ghastly patterned seat. As he sat, he felt a sharp pain and cowered forward involuntarily in absolute agony.
“What is happening inside of me?” he thought to himself, clutching his gut. Jack felt a dribble of sweat roll down his brow and a wave of panic surged over him. In that split second his cheerful mood turned into pure dread. Desperately searching his memory for recent mealtimes trying to find an explanation, it suddenly dawned on him. The realisation slapped him hard like a bad smell and the horror was apparent in his face, as he whispered to himself,
“Last night’s Mexican wrap…”
Jack looked hurriedly around the carriage whilst mentally debating with himself. He really had to go… Could he…? Would anyone even care? It is London after all and there are loads of mental patients wandering around, who would even bat an eye lid? After what seemed an eternity of a rocky tube ride, his stop came up and he dashed off the train, clenching more than just his fists. Walking through Shoreditch Jack felt a pang and hearing a horrific gurgling, felt his stomach drop.
“Something’s coming out…” he muttered, sounding helpless and pathetic. Suddenly he felt something wet running down his leg, and he in turn began to run. Jack continued to run, trying to think, towards anywhere, anything, any place out of sight from the judgemental eyes of Shoreditch. A moment later he found himself with his trousers down, vulnerably squatting in some poor random’s doorway.
“Oh this has got to be an all time low,” he thought to himself, whilst a brown Mexican river flowed out of him. Immediately feeling a thousand times better, he jumped up, pulled his trousers up and and quickly assumed the position of a normal, dignified human being. Walking away, a friendly passerby greeted him, smiling. Just a few minutes earlier and that dog walker would not have been greeting him with a smile.
Digging out his phone, Jack only had one person to call in such a mortifying situation.
“Mummy? Mummy… I’ve pooed myself. I’ve shat myself in Shoreditch…” His pitiful voice whimpered, whilst his Mother directed him to find a local establishment and sort himself out. Eventually Jack found a restaurant and walked in, being overly friendly to the waitress and requiring a table for one, whilst he quickly nipped to their toilet.
Sheer luck would have it that each cubical had its own sink, so he locked himself away from the world to clean himself up. Sheer bad luck would have it that the toilet paper ran out and shamefully, he had to use both of his socks as wiping material. Into the sanitary towel bin went his favourite Primark pants – Jack’s thoughts turned to the poor person who would later discover and dispose of them. He then scurried out of the restaurant door avoiding all eye contact with the waitress and made his way to complete his first day at his internship. By miracle, he arrived only five minutes late but looking very flustered. Needless to say he spent the entire day going commando, praying that no one asked him to bend down at any point – it would be just his luck that someone would need a floor scrubbed that day.
On his way home, a curious Jack walked shadily past the same restaurant to see that it was overfilled. He felt a sting of guilt. He then found himself walking back to the same doorway that had witnessed his earlier accident, and to his dismay, the evidence was gone! A puzzled Jack made his way home, unsure of what had actually gone on that day – was it some kind of dreadful dream? One thing was for sure however; he had certainly gone off Mexican food.
Words by Loo Loo Rose
Originally published in ‘The Clap Magazine’