Chapter 92 Blaming the Nuggets ~PRESENT~

Do you know that sensation where you are pooping and your whole focus is on how to poop your poop out of your butt without it accidentally cutting in two halves because your butt cheeks might squeeze it? It's a difficult task, a really difficult one. Not cutting the poop in half is a talent. Especially when you are answering nature's call in nature, like literally in the forest. With this incredible amount of focus, your senses will be heightened too. For the fact that you are in the middle of the forest, pooping, and that it's dark and cold and moist and creepy and that you can hear the chippering of birds or insects or something, and with an additional random low growl which sounded like it came from all directions -not being able to cut the poop in this situation is a skill since we most likely squeeze our butt cheeks when we get shocked or scared.  "I blame the nuggets, I swear," I muttered silently as I breathe in deeply and immediately regretted it since I've smelt my own poop that smells like, well, poop. You see, I bought the tasty nuggets in Eight-Twelve. It was really cheap and my best friend, Maya, warned me about it already. She said something in the lines of it not being bad and all, and that I'm just being a drama queen.  At the time, all I was thinking was that: whether the nuggets were actually good or bad, as long as it's cheap, it's worth it. Plus, nuggets are nuggets. And look at where my food philosophy led me. I'm in the middle of nowhere, shitting. Is that a word? If it's not, then it should be. Suddenly, I heard an animalistic growl. "Shit." No, I'm not talking about my shit, but I'm talking about the- Growl. Gulping, I totally forgot about my poop philosophy as I immediately wiped my butt with the kleenex I brought; I don't care about my poop anymore, I don't care if I cut in half or not because I am not just scared; I'm terrified. I care more about my life than my shit. Both figuratively and literally. Growl. I immediately -and awkwardly- ran towards my bag which was placed a few feet away from me. While walking, I was pulling my pants and panties up on the way.  So remember when I said that not cutting your own poop in half is a talent? Yeah, well what I'm doing right now is God's gift.  "Holy shit holy shit holy shit," I muttered while grabbing my bag and opened it. "Holy shit holy shit holy shit." I looked for my alcohol with trembling hands and used it. GROWL. That's it! I stood up and ran towards the path from where I came from. I looked around and around and was looking for my car but there's nothing there! Just like that, I heard a loud howl. Screeching on top of my lungs, I screamed, "I'LL BE BACK MY BABY!" to where my baby is my Lexus, and ran towards the light knowing that it will lead me to the exit. -------> And that is how I ended up here. I'm now sitting alone since this place speaks a language I don't speak. But, it does have "estación de policía" written outside. Since I took Spanish for a year back in high school, I'm pretty sure that it's Spanish. I'm assuming that it's the police station because there's a police symbol too. It's weird because I've lived here in Denovan for years yet I have never noticed that there was a tiny Spanish community.  I am sooo not leaving this place without my car. "Ah! ¡Buenas tardes! Bueno, noche." (Ah! Good afternoon! Well, evening.) The Mexican policeman laughed as he greeted me. "¿Puedes hablar en Español?" (Can you speak in Spanish?) Have I mentioned that I failed my Spanish class? I have no idea what he's talking about.  Is he making a joke? He's laughing, so he probably is. But then again, he did say the word "Español". I know that Español means Spanish... Is he asking me if I'm one?  Clearing my throat I started with,"Yo..." and then I trailed off. I only know that yo translates to "I" and... yeah, I guess this why I failed the class.  What's the spanish of "no"? Damn, I guess I'm just sticking with english since I really don't know Spanish. "...No Español," I smiled sheepishly and clarified what I said, "Yo...no Español.". His eyes widened, "¿Sabes español? ¡Eso es genial!" (You know Spanish? That's great!) He laughed, "¿Te perdiste en esta gran ciudad a causa de mi fealdad?" (Did you get lost in this place because of my ugliness?) He laughed harder, "Eso es lo que mi familia solía bromear sobre mí. Pero en serio, ¿soy feo?" (That's what my family used to joke about me. But seriously, am I ugly?) Didn't he get the message when I said: "No Spanish"? If there is another thing I learned in Spanish class, it's that yes is Sí and no is... I forgot. Plus, if he's actually saying a joke, then I should just probably say yes and agree with him.  So I laughed and said, "Sí." (Yes.) Suddenly, he frowned. "Bueno, ¿no eres una buena chica?" ("Well, aren't you a rude girl?) Again, "Sí." (Yes.) I smiled nicely. He shook his head and went inside the room muttering, "Chicas hoy. Grosero. Ey! ¡Ramón! Una pequeña niña aquí necesita ayuda. Ella es grosera. Ella me llamó feo! ¡Feo!" (Girls today. Rude. Hey! Ramón! A little girl here needs help. She is rude. She called me ugly! Ugly!) What? Did he just leave me? As he went inside, another policeman went outside and laughed at him, "Es porque es verdad. Es porque es verdad." (It's because it's true. It's true.) He walks toward me with a frown on his face, his positive aura is long gone now."Oye tú, no tienes que ser tan grosero." (Hey you. You didn't have to be so rude.) I pursed my lips. Why can't they understand that I don't speak Spanish? I simply nodded and once again said, "Sí." (Yes.) He sighs and raised an eyebrow, "Entonces, ¿por qué fuiste grosero?" (So, why were you rude?) Again, "Sí." (Yes.) He raised an eye brow, "¿Eres sordo? Te estoy haciendo una pregunta, señorita." (Are you deaf? I'm asking you a question, young lady.) "Sí." (Yes.) It seems as if he just realized that the sky is blue because his face looked like realization hit him hard. "Ah! ¡No puedes hablar español!" (Ah! You don't speak spanish!) I'm tired. Again, "Sí." (Yes.) "Then why didn't you tell us sooner?!" He laughed, "You would have saved us a lot of time! Wait, what?  I gasped out loud, "You can speak in English?" He grinned in a friendly manner, "This is a police station in America Señorita, we need to learn the language in case of situations like this." I groaned out loud, I'm stupid! "Why didn't I think of that?" I facepalmed and laughed with him, "I'm so sorry!"  "está bien." He smiled, "I am Officer Ramon, what can I do for you?" I immediately stopped laughing when I remembered why I was here in the first place. "Oh, right." I cleared my throat, "I'm here because I lost my car." His eyes widened, "¡¿Qué?! ¿Un robo?" "Excuse me?" "Sorry, "He shook his head, " I mean, a robbery?" "What?" I asked, "Oh, no... wait, actually, PROBABLY!"  He suddenly looks serious, "What happened, Señorita?" I was about to tell everything when my poop philosophy popped in my mind. I slammed my mouth shut and smiled sheepishly, "It's a long story." Something happened. Nature called. "I have a lot of time in this station, Señorita. What story?" I don't want to talk about it. "It's a long one." I laughed awkwardly, "But long story short, my car is lost." He did not look amused. Not even one bit. "How did you lose your car?" Police Officer Ramon asked. "I... I can't say it to you...." I muttered awkwardly while fidgeting. He gave me a flat look, "Eres un inútil." (You suck.) He then called out, "Langston!"  Again, I didn't understand what he was saying, but I do know one thing: It seems as if he mentioned the last name of my ex-boyfriend, Langston. Oh, what a coincidence. Langston can't possibly be here in a police station. That is, unless if he is in trouble. He works underground, like illegal street fights and all. There's no wat for him to be here, unless if he's a janitor... Nah. There's no way for him to be here. Shaking my head, I looked down and fixed my bag strap when a very very very familiar voice called me, "Cobie...?" I looked up and gasped silently, "El..." I had the biggest crush on Elliot Langston since I was born -probably, I forgot. We were childhood friends. Then middle school came, he asked me out. Then senior year came, we broke up. Why? He's an idiot, that's why.  Elliot Langston is an idiot. Ramon killed the silence when he beamed, "Aaand Ramon!" Ramon might have killed the silence, but the awkward tension between us is still alive and kicking. Plus, I don't know what shocked me the most: Seeing Elliot Langston right in front of me... ...or seeing Elliot Langston in a mermaid suit.