It’s only fair that if you get custom clothes for the occasion that Lauren does as well. She dons a pretty pink shirt with, of course, brown lettering, and an arrow pointed down at her exposed belly. “I’m baking a big ol’ brownie!” the shirt reads. The kids especially like the poo joke. She’s also slipped on matching pink sweatpants to make her bulge more comfortable. Not to miss another humiliating scat reference, the pants have “Troy Hole” printed across their rear.

“Congratulations, Lauren!” you say muffled from inside of her. Your quarters are cramped, but you’re not about to complain. “I’m glad you beat me.” Surprisingly, she shushes you.

“You’re not supposed to talk!” She scolds. “Poo can’t talk!”

“I’m not poo yet!” You reply.

“Uh huh!” She pouts. “I ate you, so you’re a TU-UR-URD!” You love her accentuation of the continued insult.

“What kind of a turd am I going to be?” You ask. You’re going to make sure that your last moments of consciousness before you run out of air are well spent with reminders of your fate. The question has elicited responses from all of Lauren’s friends who have surrounded her to feel her belly.

“A big fat stinky one!”

“A long skinny brown one!”

“An ugly hard dark one!”

“A soft wet goopy one!”

“Diarrhea!”

Too bad only one of them can be right, you think, as you ultimately succumb to the lack of oxygen. Lauren’s a little disappointed that her meal is no longer talking, but excited that one more milestone has been passed on the way to the big moment.

The party goes on with games and grilling throughout the day and the afternoon. Surprisingly over time even those who had found the party unsettling earlier seem to warm up to it. Even your family joins in in the games, eats “turdburgers” from the grill and chocolate pudding from the bowl with a nametag on it reading “Hello, My Name is Troy’s Future.”

Of course, no party is complete without the cake, and you went all out in your ordering of a custom cake for this party. The cake designer confessed that it certainly was the only one of its type she had ever made.

The huge cake (after all, it needed to feed virtually the entire town) was designed to look like a white toilet bowl, with brown, fecal mess overflowing and spilling out the front of it. Smeared in chocolate on the sides of the bowl were “Congratulations, Lauren!” and “R.I.P. Troy”. After Lauren posed for all of the obvious suggestive pictures, your family and her family were the first to enjoy the cake. Then her principal and all of your coworkers at the school. And all of the students, their families and siblings. Also all of your friends from college. Your ex-girlfriends and crushes. Plus all of those local high school kids who showed up just witness the humiliation. There were many more in the mix too.

Wanting to be a good host, you did make sure that all of the kids in Lauren’s class left with a goodie bag. Boys got shirts with suggestive slogans, begging to be picked as the next meal. Surprisingly, most of their parents wouldn’t let them wear them. The girls got their own chocolates shaped like you and a souvenir roll of toilet paper with your face printed on every sheet.

Ultimately, as the afternoon becomes the evening, you’ve nearly completed your tour of Lauren’s digestive system. Lauren politely lets her mother know and they share a few words about what happens next. Lauren’s mother grabs a microphone to speak in to to gather everyone together.

“Everyone,” She says beaming, “the big moment is here, so if we can all gather around.” Everyone does gather around Lauren and her mother in a large circle. Many stand on benches and tables or climb trees so that they can see past the crowd. The younger children are put up on their parents’ shoulders to make sure they get a full, unobstructed view. “Lauren has something she would like to say.” Lauren’s mother hands over the microphone to the bulging child.

“Thank you for coming to my party.” Lauren says, sweetly, shyly and adorably. The crowd “awws.”

“And Lauren, I understand Troy has something he’d like to say too?” Her mother asks, smirking. Lauren nods happily and puts the microphone up to her rear.

THHHHBBBBBHHHHTTT! She rips a loud fart into the microphone that echoes throughout the park. Your last words. The crowd guffaws.