Oh crap.

Alex roared in rage and embarrassment, as another jab from the stick caused him to crap himself.

“YOU MOTHER FU-" He began, before puking uncontrollably in the attacker’s direction. A distant part of him was satisfied to see that some of it hit him.

Jaxx knocked out the the black-clad stick-wielder, with his holowhips. Then there was an odd, confused hush, as everyone stood around covered in vomit and crap.

Plisken's eyes bulged. "What... the... F*CK!?"

The smell hit the group and they began to choke and retch. Jaxx accompanied them outside.

“Oh Gods.” Alex looked around at the others, now clearly lit in the bright sunlight - the heat not helping matters.
He tried not to make eye contact with anyone.
“Oh… Gods.”

A sad piece of diarrhea slid out the bottom of his bermuda shorts, down his leg, and splatted right next to Jaxx, who retreated speedily.

“Argh!” He robo-screamed in his Vader tones. “Not cool, dude. Not cool!”
Alex wasn’t in the mood to comfort a slightly spattered skutter.

“Where’s the smeggin’ shower?” He demanded of Herbie, who appeared to be equally astonished and disturbed.
“Uh… Uh…” The surfer guy pointed vaguely into the ship.

Alex pushed his way through the throng of disgusting, disgusted, Dwarfers and made his way into the craft. He purposely trod on the unconscious man’s stomach on his way past.
“That’s for making me shit myself in front of women.”

He sighed inwardly, ashamed, as he remembered it wasn’t the first time. Some of his clients had held… interesting… fetishes. He cringed and pressed on, not particularly wanting to think about that.

He thought he heard someone calling him, but he ignored it, not wanting to interact with anybody while covered in his own faeces and vomit.

Again, his mind cruelly reminded him, it wouldn't be the fir-
“Oh shut up!”

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