The Lost and Found

by Grant Fieldgrove

***

  Mark began stirring about five hours later and Brad, in his state of half-conscious, half-lucid, wearily sat up to make sure everything was okay. "You alright, dude?"

  Mark continued fidgeting in his sheets before his eyelids finally unsealed and Brad came slowly into focus. He tried to talk but his mouth was too arid to produce words. He tongue felt intumescent and his throat felt as if he had swallowed gravel. He tried speaking again but only cacophonous sounds escaped him to which Brad could not understand.

  "Hold on, Buddy, we have water." He twisted the lid on one of the bottles from the ice chest and inserted a straw, holding it close to Mark's dry, cracked lips. He took two successful swallows but choked on the third. He waited a few seconds for his mouth to regain its requisite moisture.

  "Where are my parents?" he asked in a harsh, raspy voice. "Where am I?"

  Brad was momentarily addlepated and didn't know how to respond. He figured Mark had awoken mid-dream and was still caught between chimera and reality. "You're parents aren't here, dude. This is Brad. Your best friend. We're somewhere in South Dakota. Remember? We're going to see Mt. Rushmore today at your request. Remember?"

  Daniel had wandered in from the other room, "What's wrong?"

  "Not sure. He doesn't know where he is and he just asked for his parents."

  "Aw, hell."

  "Yeah. Mark, look. It's Danny. You remember us."

  His eyes closed then opened again as his brain pushed the reverie away and he began to realize his situation. "Yeah. Yeah I know."

  "You okay, bro?"

  "Yeah. I'm-" He coughed a loud, dry cough then reached for his water. Brad held it up to his lips as he took a few more sips. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

  "What can we get you?" Brad asked. "We have some yogurt, you want some of that?"

  "Nah. Not hungry."

  "Come on, man, you've got to eat something. Don't make us hold you down and shove this crap down your throat. We'll do it."

  "As tempting as that sounds, maybe I'll have a few bites."

  "Now you're talkin'." Brad got up and retrieved a yogurt from the ice chest and a plastic-wrapped spoon taken from the gas station. He sat down on the bed and fed Mark a few spoonfuls.

  "This isn't as erotic as I had hoped," Mark joked.

  "Yeah well, just wait, after this, the three of us are stripping you naked and throwing you in the bathtub. How's that for erotic?"

  "Fine, but no making fun of Mr. Johnson. My blood is way too busy trying to keep me alive and doesn't have time to just be hanging out in the love-handle making it look good. Its current appearance absolutely does not properly reflect its normalcy. So, ya know, no jokes." He coughed up a laugh causing Brad to flinch backwards and avoid any yogurt spittle that may be headed in his direction.

  Daniel stood on the side laughing the whole time. "Man, this is quite the trip," he said. "Already two penis appearances. Who's next, B, me or you?"

  "Oh man, I guess we'll just have to see."

  Jake yelled from the other room, "Everything okay?"

  "Yeah, bro, everything is fine."

  "Cool, I'll be right there."

  Brad checked the time on his phone and thought it would be safe to give Mark a few ibuprofens. He unscrewed the cap and dumped two out into his palm. "Here dude, swallow these. We'll give you a bath then slap a fresh Fen patch on ya. The one you have is proving to be quite the dud."

  "Cool." He opened his mouth and swallowed the pills. "I think I have to pee, too."

  "Well you can do that in the bathtub."

  "Pee in the bathtub? Really?"

  "Yeah dude, everyone does it. That's what the bubble bath is for. Duh."

  Mark looked shocked and mildly grossed out. He turned to Daniel to side with him. No help there. Daniel shook his head in approval.

  "Yeah bro, that's the whole fun of taking baths."

  Mark closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Well, we shall see, I guess. Are we hittin' the mountain today?"

  "I don't know," Brad said, "it's already four o'clock, I think we should just take it easy here and let you get as much rest as possible. We can hit it first thing in the morning. That way we can spend as much time up there as you want. When you get tired, we can continue the drive or find another motel. Whatever you feel up to." He turned to look and Daniel. "What do you think?"

  "That's a good idea. We can walk down and go get some food and bring it back, have a nice romantic dinner for four in this lovely Motel 6 room."

  Jake walked in and joined the rest of his friends, "Dude, is it bad that I'm still tired?"

  "Dude, we're all tired," Brad answered. "We're going to give Mark a bath then head down the street and find some food to bring back. Just hang out here for the night, hit Mt. Rushmore in the morning."

  "Sounds good to me. Want me to go start the water?" Jake asked, nodding to the bathroom.

  "Yeah. Lots of piss-cleanse, don't forget."

  Brad, Mark and Daniel laughed while Jake looked around at each of them, completely befuddled. "Oh!" He said excitedly, finally getting it. "Bubble bath! Ha, I getcha."

  Jake readied the bath water as Daniel and Brad helped Mark to his feet. "Can you walk okay?" Jake asked.

  "Yeah. I think I'll be okay. Just help me out."

  "No sweat."

  With one arm around Brad's shoulders and one arm around Daniel's, Mark slowly made his walk to the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat. They removed his shirt and carefully removed his sweatpants, Daniel holding on to him so he wouldn't lose his balance.

  "Oh man, you look like an uncircumcised baby," Jake cracked.

  "Funny, asshole. Like I told them, my blood is a little busy at the moment. Now do you see why I wasn't too thrilled with the Stadium Pal idea?"

  "It's cool man, that's what mine ended up looking like that time it popped off and I pissed myself."

  "Actually," Brad said, "ya know when mine gets like that? When I'm sick. I call it Sick Dick. I guess you're right, your blood just has more important things to do than hang out in the mine-shaft."

  The four boys shared a hearty laugh then ever-so-carefully lifted Mark into the warm water. This was the first time Daniel had really noticed just how brittle and wispy his friend's body was. It worried him immensely.

  Being picked up was always excruciatingly painful for Mark but he tried to play it off as much as he could. The warm water soaked his frail body and warmed his insides. He closed his eyes and felt his tension release.

  "So what's the deal, here?" Brad asked. "You want us to wash you sensually or what?"

  "Such a jackass, I swear. Actually, I'm fine just soaking for a while. I don't want to front load all your excitement for this trip. We'll save some stuff for later on."

  The three boys stayed crowded in the tiny bathroom the whole time Mark was enjoying his soak, making cracks at each other's expenses and laughing profusely. For those twenty-or-so minutes, locked in the steamy bathroom together, they had forgotten what this trip was really all about and allowed themselves to be consumed in the moment.

  When bath time was over, they removed Mark from the tub and slowly got him into some clean pajamas and back into bed. Brad put a new Fen patch on Mark's inner right forearm while Daniel brought his bottle of water to him and gave him another sip. Jake flipped on the television and began looking for something to watch on one of the motel's limited channels. Brad and Daniel agreed to go for a walk and pick up food.

  When they stepped outside, they realized that they were under-dressed. The temperature had dipped to ridiculous lows. They went back inside the motel and got
the keys for the van so they could retrieve their sweatshirts, then began their walk.

  When they hit the corner, Daniel finally spoke up. "I didn't realize he was so light."

  "What?"

  "Mark, bro. He weighed practically nothing."

  "I know, dude."

  Brad began to step into the street but Daniel reached out and stopped him. "I'm serious, bro. I am scared shitless. I mean, I kinda knew what was going to happen on this trip but I don't think it fully sunk in until tonight. He's not getting better."

  "I know he's not. That's the whole point, remember?"

  "I know, I know." Daniel's face had grown sullen and pale. "I just. I mean, dude, four of us are taking this trip but only three of us are going to be returning. I don't think I can-"

  "YOU don't think you can what, Daniel?"

  "I don't know if I can do this. It's only going to get worse, I can't be around when he gets-"

  Anger rose up and flushed Brad's face bright red. "Oh fuck you, Daniel! YOU don't think you can handle this? Really?! You have to fucking make this about YOU again?"

  "Bro, that's not-"

  "Shut the fuck up, man! I know you're scared, fuck dude, we all are. I'm scared shitless! I'm so afraid one of us is going to fuck up and that's going to be the end of him. We didn't fucking think this through. Our intentions were good but they were selfish. I feel like shit about it, I'm sure we all do. But we can't go back now. We go back now all of us get arrested and Mark dies alone in the fucking hospital. That's just how it is."

  "It's just too painful to sit back and watch him get-"

  "Look dude, here's the deal. We all fucked up. I realize that and even if I'm not okay with it, I have to deal with it. I know it's going to be hard to watch him suffer and eventually go, but I'm going to have to put my big-boy pants on and take the responsibility of making sure he goes peacefully. So are you! So fuck you for making this about you! You've always been so goddamn selfish! Never giving a shit about anyone but yourself."

  Daniel reached out and put his hand on Brad's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. Brad forcefully swatted it off. "Get your fucking hands off me, man. Why don't you grow up a bit and realize that the world doesn't revolve around one Daniel Molina!" Brad turned to resume walking.

  "I'm not selfish, man!"

  Brad stopped mid-step and turned to face his friend again. "You're not selfish?!"

 

  "No. I'm not."

  "Where's your fucking daughter, Daniel? In fact, what's your daughter's name?!"

  Daniel stood there, stone-faced and stunned. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or attack his friend. He just stood.

  "Yeah. That's what I thought, Daniel. Everything is about you. YOU left your girlfriend during the most difficult time of her life because, what, she hurt your feelings? You couldn't deal with some mood swings? Well, guess what, man, if you every plan on being with another woman again, you better get used to them, because that is what women do. Every one of them. And then, even worse, you left a child, a total innocent little baby to live her life fatherless because, once again, it's all about you. And you have the sack to stand there and tell me you're not selfish. Fuck you."

  "Fuck this, man. I'm going back to the room."

  "Adios." Brad began crossing the street and Daniel walked in the opposite direction. Fifty paces later he stopped in his tracks, took a deep breath, turned and ran back towards Brad.

  "Wait up."

  Brad stopped and waited for Daniel to approach. They walked in silence together until finding a restaurant.

  They returned to the room with bags full of Styrofoam containers. "Oh shit," Jake said. "Styrofoam equals healthy! What'd ya get?"

  "Burgers. Fries. The usual shit you order at a disgusting small-town diner," Daniel said. "Marcus, we got you a grilled cheese and some fries. Not the healthiest but it would make me the happiest cat in the litterbox if you tried to take down a few bites." He nodded.

  "Stopped at the gas station, too. Got some more water, the world's most expensive six-pack of Newcastle and some Rockstars, Monsters and Red Bulls for the morning."

  "Oh great," Jake said, "toss me a Newky."

  The boys sat on the two queen-size beds, eating their burgers, Mark nibbling on his grilled cheese, and watching some ridiculously bad movie on Lifetime. They had done nothing today but were still exhausted.

  Mark eventually drifted off to sleep and Brad, Jake and Daniel agreed to be up and ready to go by the time he woke up. Tomorrow was going to be a big day and they needed to plan for enough time to take it slowly.

  When the killer in the terrible movie was finally caught, the boys decided to call it a night, each retiring to their respected bed.

  In the morning, before Mark had even awoken, the three of them got up and get ready for the day. They showered (Jake taking the longest due to all the dried, crusted blood on his body) dressed and got all packed up. They would need to move all the luggage to the top of the car, like true tourists, if they were to make a bed in the back for Mark. That would have to wait until later in the day, when they could buy some rope to secure everything.

  When Mark finally awoke, Jake and Brad lifted him and set him on the toilet. He barely had a trickle. Soon after, they were ready to go, back on the freeway headed north towards Keystone.

  Every day I wake up, I hope I'm dreaming, I can't believe this shit, Can't believe you ain't here. Sometimes it's just hard for a nigga to wake up...

  "I'm sorry," Mark said, "but are we listening to Puff Daddy; I'll Be Missing You?"

  "We sure are, buddy!" Brad said, enthusiastically.

  "Brad made us a killer mix of shit from high school and college," Jake said, sharing Brad's enthusiasm. "It's been great."

  "Sounds like it. I can't believe Puff Daddy or Puffy or Pee-Hole, or whatever the hell his name is now, is famous. He's terrible."

  "Oh man," Jake said, "he couldn't be any worse than Biggie! That fat fuck rapped like he was eating a sandwich and tripping over his bottom lip."

  The interior of the van was flooded with laughter.

  "Oh man," Daniel finally said, choking out his giggles, "at least Biggie rapped. All Puffy does is talk or say Uh Huh."

  "Shit dude," Brad said, "How badass would it have been if Puff Daddy and Timbaland teamed up for a song? They could have called it Uh Huh. Yeah. Say What?"

  Everyone laughed.

  "I smell a number one hit!" Mark said. "They could have just used the Magnum P.I. theme song or the A-Team one or something and just said that shit over and over and sold millions!"

  Right around the time Sunny was coming home, via the stereo speakers, the GPS informed them they were close.

  "You think the people who do these GPS voices are like, all fat and ugly and shit?" Jake asked. The question was well received with laughter.

  When Mark stopped coughing, he answered, "Probably. Just like radio DJs. If they were decent looking, they wouldn't be on the radio."

  "Still, I'd like to see what she looks like. Ya never know, maybe she's some sexy little thing who came over from London and is trying to make it as an actress and just waiting for her big break. She could be desperate for work, ya know, and do anything for this gig."

  Brad turned around in his seat to face them. "Dude, you are over-thinking this way too much. Now shut up about it or I'm going to change the voice to the dude. Enjoy the scenery."

  The Soccer Van wove through the beautiful Black Hills and the four boys' faces stared out the windows in awe. None of them had been this close to mountains before. Something so simple that is taken for granted by so many people filled
the van with wonder and amazement. They passed another billboard for Wall Drug.

  When they finally arrived at Mount Rushmore, it was absolutely nothing as they imagined. All four of them assumed it was something you could drive by, stop, if you wanted, and take a gander. That was not it at all. On top of having to pay to park, the landmark was not visible from anywhere, as far as they could tell. They bit the bullet and paid the eight bucks and parked in a handicap spot up front, to which there seemed to be plenty. They didn't have the official handicap placard, but they risked it anyway in the hopes that nobody would notice.

  They loaded Mark into the wheelchair and pushed him up the handicap accessible ramp next to the massive entrance into the park. Once the passed through the colossal concrete arch they entered the mandatory gift shop, selling such high-caliber items as plastic Rushmore paperweights, horribly tacky t-shirts and much other worthless shit old people need to remember things by.

  They exited the shop empty handed and made their way out back, the sun already making their eyelids recoil in terror. "I never understood how the sun could be shining and it could still be this goddamn cold," Daniel said.

  "How ya feel, Mark?" Brad asked.

  "I'm okay, fen patch is working and I've got my blanket here," he said as he tucked his arms tightly into it. The four of them marched on amongst a sea of pastel-clad tourists clutching their cameras, sharing boring stories or bickering at each other, until the majestic dynamite-carved monument imposed over them, enveloping each of them in a sense of awe they hadn't felt in quite some time. They remained perfectly still staring up at the grandiose sight. In one day they went from having never seen a mountain to standing in front of one of the country's largest landmarks. The only thing close to a landmark in Nebraska is Carhenge; a grotesquely tacky replica of the world famous Stonehenge made of broken down cars.

  People stood all around them, snapping photographs and taking home videos. The boys had cameras on their phones, but none of them felt the need to use them. They wouldn't need photographic reminders of this trip.

  "Okay," Jake finally said, breaking the group's silence, "so you've got Washington and Lincoln. Anyone know the other two?"

  "Yeah. Two honkies," Brad answered with laughter.

  An old man in a bright, baby-blue polo shirt, tan pants, sneakers and a camera hanging from his neck turned to the boys and said, "Good lord, that is Thomas Jefferson and Theodore Roosevelt! How about you kids take a little stop at the bookstore on your way out and learn a thing or two?"

  "Hey, Gramps," Mark said, looking up at him from his wheelchair, "proving how evil the gods of fate are, I am going to be dying before you, and I know the rule is to respect one's elders, but seeing as, judging strictly by time left on earth, I am your elder, you can listen to me for a change and piss off." The boys started laughing uncontrollably as the grumpy old man mumbled something and stormed off.

  Around them, hundreds of brightly-clothed tourists breathed in the chilly day's air, guts hanging over their belts, cameras pressed against their faces, capturing the moment for remembrance once they return to their dull lives.

  "Look at all these fat assholes," Daniel said, his eyes wandering from one overweight tourist to the next.

  "And what is with all the cameras?" Mark asked. "God, they're too busy looking through their lenses that they're not even bothering to look with their eyes."

  "That's the way it always is," Brad said.

  "I know," Mark said, "and it's sad. All these people relying on a cheap piece of plastic to capture their memories when they should be sitting back and enjoying everything with their senses. No camera will ever capture the beauty of things more vividly than your brain. A camera can't capture the smell of the mountains or the cool breeze on your face. It's a shame. I wish more people would slow down and pay attention. I wish I could slow down and pay more attention."

  "Nobody pays attention to shit, these days." Brad said. "Everyone is too goddamn busy with their stupid cellphones that they're convinced they need at all times."

  "I know," Jake said, "Some dumb broad almost crashed into me the other day on the way to work because she was looking straight down at her phone texting. She never even saw me. I swear to God, cellphones are going to be the death of us all."

  "You're right," Brad said. "Look around, everyone is hunched over staring at those goddamn things. They all look like Mr. Burns with the big hunchback." He began laughing at his own thought, "You know that picture of evolution that starts with the little monkey then goes to the ape, then goes to like a caveman and then a normal human? The next guy is going to be some asshole staring down at his phone, then back to caveman, then an ape, then a monkey again."

  Through laughter, Jake added, "Then God will be like, 'Meh, maybe the dinosaurs weren't as stupid as I thought. Maybe I'll give them another crack at it.''

  The gang all continued to laugh, until, eventually the chuckling died down into silence.

 

  They stood there quietly and just watched the unmoving monument. Taking it all in. "Hey, Danny," Mark said, "you still have your pocketknife?"

  "Always, man. What's up?"

  "Let's carve our names into the railing back there. Let 'em know where we here."

  They smiled. "Right on," Daniel said, fishing his knife from his pocket and handing it off to Mark. They slowly began walking backwards towards the railing then took turns, nonchalantly, carving their names, Jake adding the phrase Were Here after all the names had become a permanent fixture.

  They stayed for a while longer then eventually decided it was time to go. They exited through the gift shop, of course, and Mark had another idea. "Let's all buy cheesy t-shirts. Every stop we make let's buy a shirt and wear them at the next stop."

  "Wow bro," Daniel said, "that sounds like a terrible idea. Let's do it." The four of them picked out matching shirts, white with the monument blazon across the chest and the words MT. RUSHMORE SOUTH DAKOTA displayed in bold letters below. They were shirts that should have been ridiculously cheap but ended up costing the boys more than a hundred dollars for the quartet.

  They made their way back to the parking lot, got Mark loaded in and comfortable, then left. The day was still young. "Where to now?" Daniel asked.

  "I don't know," Mark said. "That was pretty impressive. It really makes ya think. Like, what the hell am I going to leave behind when I'm gone? Ya know what; let's stick to things that don't make me feel so insignificant."

  "Ohhhh shit," Brad said, his face buried in a state map he picked up from the motel. "Have I got just the place for you!"

  "Where?"

  "Oh, it’s a surprise."

  Daniel pulled over as Brad leaned in and pointed to a location on the map. It was close, less than forty miles away and easy to reach. "Right on."

  In the backseat, Jake felt left out. The van pulled back out into the road and began traveling east, past yet another Wall Drug billboard. This one advertising Free Ice Water. An hour later they were passing under a sign made of fake dinosaur bones that read WELCOME TO BEDROCK. Have a Yabba Dabba Doo Time!

  "Shut. Up." Jake said, his eyes locked on the sign the whole time, following it up and over the car through the moon roof and behind them as they entered.

  "Oh, it gets better, dude. There is a theme park." Brad began to sing a song he, somehow, remembered from the cartoon.

  "There's a town I know where the hipsters go called Bedrock. Twist Twist!"

  "I think it's actually Twitch, not Twist," Jake said.

  "Who cares? Let's find a place to stay first," Daniel said, ignoring Brad and his terrible vocal abilities and the debate about the stupid lyrics. The town was pretty baron, resembling just about any other smal
l town one would expect to find in the middle of South Dakota. They located the so-called theme park on the right hand side of the street and decided to pull in to the Bedrock Inn across the street. "Oh, I think we pretty much HAVE to stay here."

  Brad hopped out, saying he'd handle it, and ran inside to reserve the rooms. As luck would have it, there was vacancy. They got the same set-up as before. Once inside the rooms, the boys were slightly chagrined to discover they looked just like any other crappy motel room in any other crappy town.

  Getting Mark from the van and into bed proved to be much easier this time than the previous. Brad had been keeping close tabs on exactly when Mark should take more medicine. In fact, he could take some ibuprofen soon, then get some rest.

  "We're going to get some rope and tie all the luggage to the top of the van so you can have all the room in the back, okay dude?" Brad smiled a cheesy grin.

  "Just when I thought our ride couldn't look any worse," Mark said in a soft tone, obviously exhausted from the morning's minor activities.

  "Get some rest, dude. Whenever you're feeling up to it, we can walk over to the theme park. I have a feeling if anything would make you feel less inadequate it would be this shitbarn of a town. If you're hungry, maybe we can score some Pterodactyl eggs or a Brontosaurus burger...or maybe some ribs that will destroy our van."

  He gave a slight smile and mumbled his thanks before drifting off.

  "Welp," Jake said, "I've got to take a leak. Excuse me, boys."

 

  "Thanks for the heads up, man."

  "Hey, it's what I do."

  While Jake retreated into the bathroom, Brad and Daniel shared an awkward silence for a while. Daniel finally broke it by flipping the TV on. From inside the bathroom they heard Jake yell, "God damn it!" He emerged a few seconds later, his tan colored pretty-boy Abercrombie pants had a dark streak of moisture running down the entire left leg. "You'd think with my thirty-plus years of pissing experience I could at least take a successful leak! Look at me, I pissed all over myself."

  All three of them chuckled loudly, the laughter chasing away all traces of the awkwardness that came before it.

  "What'd you do, dude?" Brad asked. "The early tuck?"

  "Yeah, ugh! The stupid early tuck!"

  "That's dangerous, dude. You have to make sure it's all out before you return it to its holster."

  Daniel, still laughing, said, "It's cool. It's not like you're first person to do that."

  "You're not even the first person in the room to do that. I actually do that all the time at work when I'm wearing that stupid apron and have to push it aside and I never even loosen my belt, so sometimes some gets trapped and when I tuck it back in I end up having to work the rest of the day with soiled underpants." The laughter continued. "Just don't sit on my bed, please."

  "Hardy har har. Give me the keys; I need to get my bag so I can change." Brad picked them up and tossed them to him.

  "Hope there aren't any pretty girls out by the car to see your piss leg."

  "I hate you."

  "You looooooove me."

  Mark coughed and stirred in his bed. The boys got silent. Daniel gave a nervous grin and put his index finger to his lips, the international sign of Shh.

  They left the adjoining door open and went into the other room to watch TV. Mark awoke two hours later, saying he felt well enough to make the trek across the street. It was late afternoon. They would have time. Daniel and Jake helped him up and did his toilet routine, while Brad fixed his friend a cup of ice water. When everyone was ready, they journeyed across the street.

  The theme-park was even less than they thought it would be. There were no rides, no mobs of people, no lines. After entering through a rather large gift shop that had pretty much every conceivable Flintstone related item for sale, you make your way out back to a semi-charming recreation of the fictional town of Bedrock, complete with dinosaur slides, a BBQ and the houses of the Flintstones and Rubbles. It was pretty obvious to whom this theme park was aimed, but the boys still enjoyed a nice dose of nostalgia.

  Jake pushed Mark around the grounds as Daniel and Brad followed closely behind, taking in their absurd surroundings. A quick lap around the park was enough to satisfy them. They exited through the gift shop, picking up matching Bedrock shirts then headed back out front.

  "Who's hungry?" Jake asked.

  Brad and Daniel raised their hands. Mark gave a shoulder shrug, meh.

  "How about some Pterodactyl wings or a Brontosaurus burger?" Jake asked.

  "So lame. Besides, I already made that joke. Let's just order pizza to the motel."

  "Even better."

  The four of them returned to their rooms after stopping by a vending machine to pick up some more drinks for the evening. They were still plenty stocked on Mark's water, but would need to get him more ice as soon as possible. They ordered pizza from a place that ended up being less than a hundred yards from the motel, Jake insisting on having his own pizza topped with jalapenos with a side of hot sauce for crust-dipping. Brad gladly obliged, since spicy pizza didn't sound at all appetizing. Jake ended up eating his entire large pizza, while Brad, Daniel and Mark struggled to finish two mediums. Much to their pleasure, Mark had managed to take down nearly two full slices.

  Brad set the medicine out on the table. Seeing as the fen patch seemed to be working and Mark still remained his normal self, he thought a high dosage of ibuprofen would get them through the night. Jake started the bathwater, getting it ready for Mark. Once he swallowed the medicine the three of them helped him up again, stripping him down and letting him soak in the bathtub. Jake wet a washcloth and held Mark's arms up one at a time to wash his pits. Jake told him he was on his own with the rest of his body. The comment earned another round of collective giggles.

  After the bath, they toweled him off and got him into some clean clothes and back in to bed. On the television, The Fugitive played. Mark was excited to watch it. They all took a seat in the room.

  Mark made it through the entire movie without dosing off. He was happy about that. He began to think that could be the last movie he ever watches. His happiness turned to a bitter sadness that he tried to push aside. He had made peace with dying a while ago, but silly, seemingly trivial things such as that still managed to drag him down. His self-pity was interrupted when Daniel abruptly stood up and said, "Welp, as much fun as it has been being cooped up with three dudes for God knows how many straight hours, I am going to go hop in the shower and answer the bone-a-phone!"

  Mark coughed a laugh and the other two boys seemed in shock from the sudden, drastic turn the night had taken.

  "Woah, dude," Jake said, fighting back laughter, "that's a little more information that we need."

  "Well, I feel it is vital information and I suggest you all go take a shower and do the ol' knuckle shuffle before our tempers flare up so bad we start arguing about the most ridiculous shit you can think of. Trust me, you'll thank me later. Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'm off to badger the witness."

  "Impregnate that drain, buddy!" Mark coughed. After the laughter halted and Daniel was in the shower, the three boys remained quiet for a few moments, enjoying the silence. It was, however, interrupted by a massive, moist tearing sound that echoed through-out the room. The hearty laughter resumed.

  "Oh shit, sorry guys," Jake said.

  "Jesus Christ, man, you better go check your drawers. That one didn't sound like it came alone."

  "God," Mark said, "I'm already on borrowed time, I don't need to die from a toxic gassing."

  "Oh man, it stinks!"

  "Oh shit guys, it really does. My apologies. Fucking jalapenos!" Passing gas was alw
ays a fairly regular occurrence between the tightly knit group of friends. It was never anything to be embarrassed about, in fact, it was always guaranteed to score a cheap laugh. This time, though, Jake was pretty sure he had made a deposit in his underpants. He shifted nervously in his seat, confirming his suspicions. He tried to play it off like everything was okay, but he needed to remedy his problem without his friends finding out. He was already the butt of the joke for his earlier arrival at the van, butt naked and bleeding, and all events prior, including the mention of a certain big-boned water polo player. In fact, the more he thought of it, he was always the butt of the joke. He couldn't deal with having to hear a bunch of Poop Your Pants jokes.

  He weighed his options. If he stood up too quickly it would draw suspicion to the problem, but if he waited too long, the scent threatened to give him away. And really, how long could he sit in his own feces. He wasn't a baby in diapers, this was quite gross. Those Depends would have come in quite handy right about now, he thought.

  Please don't be bad, please don't be bad, he chanted to himself. The bathroom in the other room was being occupied, he would need to use the one directly behind him. Just great.

  "I'm going to go wash my face and stuff, get ready for bed." He stood up and made his way, walking backwards, to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and pulled down his pants and underwear. It was worse than he thought. There was no saving this situation. He turned the water on to play along with his story. He removed his shitty underpants and balled them up. He looked around the bathroom; there was nowhere to hide them. He was stuck. He sat on the toilet and cleaned up his mess and put his pants back on, sans underwear. He held his soiled drawers tightly in his hand, doing his best to conceal them and walked out into the main room, saying he needed to grab his pajamas.

  He knelt down beside the bed where his suitcase was, opened it up and pretended to dig around inside. With his right hand, he felt along under the bed. He lucked out. There was a thin, felt-like lining along the bottom of the bed frame. He used his fingernail to scratch a small hole in it, then tore it open. He took his shitty balled-up shorts and put them in the hole and threw them towards the foot of bed, where they rested nicely, under the bed and completely out of sight, probably never to be found. He was in the clear. He grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and his pajama pants and stood up. His stomach gurgled loudly.

  "Dude, was that your stomach?"

  "Yeah, I guess. Maybe I'm still hungry."

  "Ha! Order another pizza, homes."

  "Nah, I'm okay. Imma go get changed." He walked back in to the bathroom and put on his fresh clothes. While washing his face, for real this time, his bowels launched a top-secret, surprise attack once more. He didn't even have time to clench his cheeks together before they unloaded another round into his pants. "Fuck me! Why?! Why now?" he whispered softly to himself. He was going to be in the car for a very long time tomorrow, he could NOT get the squirts. He pulled his pants back off and repeated the exact same routine, adding another pair of shitty pants to the underside of the bed frame, this time using the excuse that he needed to his toothbrush. No one seemed to catch on.

  As the night drew to a close and everyone around him was asleep, Jake lay in bed, stomach gurgling, trying desperately to keep everything inside him. Throughout the night, Brad kept waking up. An overwhelming stench from under his bed would not allow his body to rest comfortably. He got up a total of three times that night; twice to check under the bed for something dead, coming up empty both times, and once to check Mark's pants to make sure there wasn't a mess. He could not, for the life of him, figure out what the stink was. It hadn't been there earlier in the day, at least not that he had noticed. He resorted to pulling the covers over his head and trying his best to keep the putrid odor away from him.

 

 

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