ACHILLES
That’s how it goes in my mind. He shoves my head in the bowl, flushes, and I pop up, jack in the box: thank you!
(Beat.)
The problem is that in real life, I never get past choking on the bowl water. My brain is trying to say “thank you,” and the rest of me is gagging, and if the toilet wasn’t flushed before I—let’s not even go there.
(Beat.)
Since “thank you” doesn’t seem to be happening, I’m working on another strategy: vomiting. I’m optimistic about vomiting, because it’s all I can do not to vomit already, so this would be like going with the flow, and even better: his legs are right there.
(demonstrates by getting on his knees and swiveling to one side)
It’s just point and shoot. And if you knew that every time you gave me a swirly you were gonna’ have to go home and change your pants, you’d think twice about it. It’s the power of retaliatory vomiting.
(Beat.)
And that’s just the beginning. They say that the best defense is a good offense, which is why I’m taking it to the next level: preemptive vomiting.
(Beat.)
Trouble at four o’clock. Fire projectiles on my mark.
(Feigns vomiting.)
We’ve got on ‘em on the run. I repeat. The enemy is in full retreat.
(Beat.)
I hate vomiting. It’s the worst feeling in the world. Almost as bad as having your head stuck in a flushing toilet.