My mom was having one of her garden parties. All the neighbors were invited, including my hot next door neighbor Chase. We had played together as kids but tonight was one of the first nights I had seen him in a while. He had been away volunteering for the Peace Corps. But he had a bad boy side and the two of us got high behind the Porta Potty in the backyard. We have two bathrooms that Mother prefers people use (they are clean and properly scented) but she understands the alcohol flows and there is usually a line for those bathrooms at these parties. So, she got a Porta Potty which stood out among the lovely tulip arrangements and lilacs.
Mother made me attend the garden party. My stomach was feeling kind of funky so I had wanted to stay upstairs with a heating pad for the cramping. Mother said that everybody poops and to get over it.
I was fine the first half of the party. I enjoyed the alcohol (I'm twenty-two, it's legal) and the appetizers. But then my stomach was starting to rumble louder and louder, churning liquid like a cement mixer.
"Did you hear something?" asked Chase, handing me the joint. I had accidentally farted. I blushed so hard that I knew it was a dead giveaway.
"My stomach growled. I'm just eager for the main course," I explained. Chase shrugged but I could tell he didn't believe me. Luckily, the marijuana masked the smell.
"Diana?" It was Mother. Chase hastily threw his joint in the rosebush. Mother did not look pleased to find me skulking behind the rosebush with a guy. Even though he makes Mother melt just as much as he makes me. He has that effect on women.
"Diana, I need your help passing out plates for the main course," Mother said. I shot Chase an apologetic look then abandoned him behind the Porta Potty.
