I looked across the table. I thought Rob and James would still be laughing, but now James looked as pissed as Matt originally was. Rob was whispering to him and waving his hands around. James stood up. It looked like he was going to run out of the room, but Rob grabbed his arm to stop him. “Just wait for it,” Rob said.
“Have you lost your mind?” James pulled his arm out of Rob’s grip.
“Wait for it,” Rob said. He looked so excited.
There was a loud cracking noise. For a second I thought someone had dropped a dish. But then I saw a piece of drywall falling onto the table.
“Shit,” James said.
I looked up at the ceiling to see the cracks expanding right above the dining room table. And then brown goo started leaking through the cracks.
Oh God.
Mrs. Pruitt screamed and everyone started backing away from the table.
Shit literally started raining down from the cracked ceiling in big gross globs. There was a loud cracking noise and an explosion of poop fell from the ceiling, covering all the food on the table.
Poppy took some shit right to the face and screamed at the top of her lungs. She started sobbing, wiping the poo from her cheeks.
“Richard, do something!” Mrs. Pruitt yelled as a chunk of drywall landed in the center of the dining room table. One of the chandeliers fell and she screamed again as the crystals shattered.
Someone slipped backward on the mess, slamming into the china cabinet, sending glass and broken china in every direction.
Another crack made the ceiling finally collapse.
And Isabella fell through it.
On a toilet.
With her dress pulled up around her waist.
Everyone started screaming and running around, slipping in the shit and colliding with each other.
What the fuck is happening?
The toilet landed right in the center of the table on top of the Thanksgiving turkey. The table snapped in half and Isabella screamed at the top of her lungs.
More poop splattered everywhere as the toilet hit the ground. A water pipe burst, spreading everything literally everywhere. Poop seeped into the carpet. It hit a few of the guests. I even had to dodge some of it.
What the hell?!
I heard someone barfing in the corner of the dining room.
“Don’t look at me!” Isabella shrieked as she unsuccessfully tried to cover herself. Another fart ripped through the room.
And then Rob started laughing so loud. He put his finger through some of the shit on the table and licked it off.
For a second I almost started throwing up too.
But then Rob winked at me.
Oh no. It wasn’t poop. It was pudding. I was pretty sure I was one of the only people that knew it. And now I knew why Rob said he needed blueprints of the apartment. So that he could make sure to set this up just right. And why he kept joking around about an abundance of pudding.
So.
Much.
Pudding.
“Do something, Richard!” Mrs. Pruitt screamed again. “Someone do something!” She put her hands out as some of the water from the burst pipe shot in her direction. She tried to dodge it and slipped in the pudding, landing face first in the mess.
I gasped. Oh God.
My dad stepped forward to try to help Isabella off her porcelain throne, but he slipped on the pudding too. He grabbed the arm of the guy next to him and they both tumbled into the pudding, one of them knocking into the broken china cabinet. And this time the cabinet toppled forward, smashing into the dining room table.
The second chandelier fell to the ground and as someone went to dodge it, they somehow hit the turkey carving fork. It sailed through the air and stuck into the family portrait. Right in the middle of Isabella’s painted forehead. The forked dragged down, ruining the portrait as everyone continued yelling and running around.
Holy shit.
Rob leaned across the broken table, not caring at all about his dress shoe stepping in the brown goo, since he knew it wasn’t poop. “Good one, Sanders,” he said and lifted up his hand.
I just stared at him. This wasn’t part of the plan! Put your hand down, you crazy person!
I heard another person vomiting.
“I’m going to kill you!” Isabella screamed at me. “I’m going to fucking kill you, you monster!”
I didn’t do this. I backed up, knocking into Matt. He grabbed my arms to steady me.
“You’re going to fucking die, Brooklyn!” Isabella screamed.
“Isabella,” I said. “I didn’t…”
“Shut up, you bitch! I’m going to kill you in your sleep! How could you do this to me?”
Matt’s hands fell from my arms.