Diarrhea

I'm sitting at home, watching The Daily Show, as is my habit for dinner, when I get a message on my cellphone from Beth. This surprises me for two reasons: 1. I hate my cellphone, so most people only use it to contact me in times of need. 2. Beth never messages me... ever.

The message is as follows:

I'm sitting across from diarrhea boy on the train.

Chances are, you are just as confused as I am. I rack my brains for a moment, and then remember her husband and my favorite contestant in the Speech Competition we had to judge. His speech went a little something like this:

DIARRHEA (snickers from me and James) is the worlds greatest killer
(snickering subsides as we judges realize that he's serious). We must stop
DIARRHEA! (surpressed snickers)

It is a serious issue, and I feel bad enough already for laughing at him before he even got the second word in his speech, so let's not dwell on that.

I messsage her back, telling her that she ought to talk to him about it. Ten minutes later, my cellphone vibrates, proclaiming a new message:

I would, but it looks like he's trying to hold it in. (poop emoticon and restroom emoticon)