My stomach had a mind of its own and it always chose the most inappropriate time to assert its presence, and the worst time it chose to open the flood gates occurred in my 1st year of college.

It was a Monday morning, physics period, a dull and boring class and I was busy wondering why my classmate was under his table for so long when the unexpected movement in my lower stomach started. There is a region in our brain that gets activated when the most bizarre happens to us and it was this region that identified the reason for my stomachache. I had forgotten an important job that morning, I had forgotten to defecate (nothing strange in that, Am sure most of you would have done much stranger things like going to your job without wearing your pants wondering why the dogs were staring at you dangerously). Within minutes, the situation deteriorated to such an extent where the head of a dangerous piece of glob was trying to poke its ugly head outside its bodily boundaries. Now there were two options left for me, I could either suppress it and start-playing flute on the wrong side of my body but that would amount to mass murder of my classmates by gassing or I could visit the loo to complete the unfinished job but how was I going to ask my teacher for permission. Definitely asking her permission to go for a drink was out of the question, my job was definitely going to take some substantial amount of time. While thinking about this paradox my brains did something they hadn’t done for about ten years, come up with an idea (definitely not joking). Congratulating myself on my smartness (for someone who had been compared to a baboon for half his life, thinking was something to be proud of), I went up to the teacher and asked her for permission to go to the bathroom under the pretext of wanting to vomit, but from the way she shooed me in a voice usually deserved for husbands  it looked like she probably had gotten wind of what I was actually going to do, but no time to think about possibilities or look at the looks on my classmate’s faces. His honor had the job of sending something to its rightful place.
 The boy’s bathroom consisted of six individual toilet cabins, six urinals, and a huge mirror with washbasins in front of them. That morning except for something that should have been stopped everything else seemed to meet with a hindrance; water was not coming in the taps.
 Before dwelling into the details of my resolute that helped me overcome the obstacles placed before me, let me bring to your notice the fact that a huge drum filled with water was placed outside the toilet.
Filling a bucket, a life savior, but definitely not looking like one, I finished the job (no need to explain it in any flowery language I suppose). But how was I supposed to wash my  hands, I wouldn’t have minded  if I had had a cold but luck was not in my favor, and with no time for wistful wishing,  I dipped my hands  into the drum(now don’t ask what happened to that bucket of water) and was washing them when this really good looking guy walked into the bathroom towards me and started washing his face with the water from the drum(no questions and definitely not that).
 Job well done in ten minutes, I returned to my class but why were they staring at me, was my little secret out.

My bench mate was making strange noises that you wouldn’t normally associate with the mouth, but why was his ugly face in such glee.
Of all buckets and their secrets, mine had leaked out, if only something else had not. My classmates had applied their genius, and had concluded I had gone to the toilet when I hadn’t  returned for more than ten minutes.
 What could I do, no amount of convincing that I had gone to vomit  would make them believe me and I was forced to smile sheepishly and groan inwardly ,’snap! so much for my smart idea’.
 
  Warning !! Anyone out there who feels this article is a piece of shit and should be flushed down your toilet, God save your lower half.