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Diarrhoea is a Hoe

"Hello, George," Ian greeted through the phone and I sloppily got up from bed.

I asked wearily, "What happened Ian?"

"Clark and I were going to-wait, are you alright?" he said, his voice laced with concern and worry.

"No, I'm sick."

"Why? I mean what happened?"

"It's not that severe---"

"Do you want me to bring you something? Or take you to the doctor?" he bombarded me with a series of questions and I exhaled loudly.

I said a bit forcefully, "No, it's nothing really."

"It must be something George. Is it cold or fever?"

"Neither."

"Then what is wrong?" he asked again and I hesitated. "What is it George? You're such a tough cookie, you---"

"Nothing! I just . . . ate a lot yesterday and my bladder got all weird," I admitted in a low voice, trying my best to not get embarrassed.

"Oh," Ian said and there was a long pause.

"Yeah, so I need to go to the bathroom again, you know," I said awkwardly and sprinted to the bathroom.

"Oh yeah, sure. Take care and if you need anything, you can---"

"D
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