[ WP ] A robber breaks into your house at the worst moment possible : while you have diarrhea .

Kevin could hear the front door unlocking from his perch in the master bathroom. 
 
 Perhaps `` master'' was an overly generous adjective for the much abused and only toilet in the two room urban squat, but it *did* connect to the bedroom, and that was -- by virtue of being the only bedroom in the house -- the master. 
 
 The toilet seat snagged Kevin's right cheek as he leaned toward the bathroom door, straining to follow the steps that were now almost certainly moving through the entryway. He tried to remember who had a spare key. His girlfriend. The cleaning woman he had hired once who vowed never to return again. His mom. His pet sitter. After a moment of quiet review, Kevin decided that the steps in the hallway belonged to none of these key holders. 
 
 There was a stranger in the house. 
 
 A wave of anxiety triggered a subsequent wave of belly pain, doubling Kevin over for the eighth time that day. His mouth was full of saliva and the taste of salt, as if his entire body was preparing to vomit, but there was nothing left in him at this point. Whatever remained of the Demon Food Item -- he had n't decided if it was the January eggnog or last night's shwarma -- was already on its way to the nearest municipal waste treatment facility. He wished it the worst of chlorinated deaths. 
 
 The footsteps were in the kitchen now, accompanied by a percussion section of opening drawers and cupboards. Kevin hoped they'd overlook the decorative bottle opener he'd procured from his trip to Norway. Even though it reminded him of his least favorite ex, it had become an essential prop at house parties. It was also an ideal segue into tales about travel, which he found particularly effective on college aged types. 
 
 The thunderstorm of slamming drawers moved boldly toward the bedroom. Kevin tried not to tense. But it was n't long before the thundering abated. A stagnant quiet began to build in the house. 
 
 The stranger's voice: `` Ummm... hello?'' 
 
 Kevin: ``... hi.'' And then, quickly. `` Please do n't come in here.'' 
 
 Hesitation hung heavy as Kevin's `` perfume.'' 
 
 `` I did n't think there was anyone home.'' 
 
 `` Yeah.'' Kevin squeaked. A shudder of abdominal pain converted itself into saliva. `` Ugh. I... I'm just... if you could not take my stuff.'' 
 
 `` Are you okay, man? I've never smelled anything like... I mean, I'm sorry. This is n't how it usually works. Are you dying or something?'' 
 
 `` Probably.'' 
 
 `` Do you need me to call 9-1-1? I can do that. After I leave, I mean.'' 
 
 `` Yeah. I might.'' 
 
 `` So uh... good bye? Good luck?'' 
 
 `` Wait!'' The steps had begun to move away, back toward the door. `` Wait! Wait!'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` Can you leave the bottle opener? Please? It's just the one thing.'' 
 
 `` Ummm... sure. Yeah. No problem, man.'' 
 
 `` Thanks.'' 
 
 The door clicked shut. 
 
 Kevin vomited.
