Chapter 13

The fact that Bill and Ted were constantly at each other's throats did not help their situation. They were supposed to file a report with headquarters once a week, usually on Mondays. But the rest of their week was spent in that little trailer. It was also not unheard of for them to be out of communication with headquarters for some time given the semi-undercover nature of their work. The special agent in charge hadn't heard from Bill and Ted for 6 weeks now. It was getting to the point where he was going to have to spend some of his budget to send some agents to their last known location and knock on the fucking door. But not yet, there was some real activity going on in another part of the city and Bill and Ted's little fuck-up operation would have to wait.

Chuck was the first one to hear the arguing from outside the secret FBI camper shell. At first Chuck thought he was actually hearing voices. Then he put his ear up to the side wall of the camper shell and realized the noise was coming from inside. Then he got a surge of adrenaline as he realized that these two jokers were arguing about food. What he wouldn't give to pop these two assholes in the head for a bite of chicken, or any of the other tasty items he heard being talked about in argumentative tones. Something had to be done. Chuck wandered slowly over to the over-sized trash can near all of the campers and reached behind it where he stashed his only prized possesion, an aluminum softball bat. He found it a few weeks earlier and realized that somebody bought it, but promptly forgot about it as they were in a hurry to drive off to where ever it was they had to go. Puzzled about what he should do about the shiny new weapon, he hid it until he could decide what would be the right thing to do. And right now the right thing to do was to get some damn food in his belly. Toaster wouldn't be here for another few days and he couldn't wait any longer. His eggroll binge two nights ago just made his hunger grow exponentially, it would have been better had he faced his alien overlords to face his ultimate destiny. But, here he was, with a bat and a plan. He positioned himself on the left side of the camper door and gave it a good solid whack.

Bill and Ted not being able to stand the other's company professionally or otherwise both went for the doorknob at the same exact time and were not paying any attention to who or what might be on the other side. Bill was able to jump out first, but he faced Ted who had his body half out of the camper as he shouted to Bill.

“What the fuck is your problem?” asked Ted.

Then Bill and Ted simultaneously turned toward their attacker as they got a whiff of urine and body odor so strong, Chuck may not have needed a bat to knock them both out at the same time.

Chuck pulled their limp bodies off to the side of the back of the truck where they wouldn't be easily seen. He then climbed into the back of the camper shell and shut the door tightly behind him. When he turned around he thought for a moment that he had unwittingly boarded the alien spacecraft that would be coming to pick him up sometime in the near future. He froze and slowly looked around at all of the equipment, computers and blinking red and green lights. Then he saw a small rectangular mini-fridge and knew that this equipment was cop shit, but that fridge would have cop food in it. He lunged for the refrigerator and opened it. To his delight it was full of left over treats and he sat on the floor and stuffed himself. He looked up and saw a cabinet that he felt was sure contained chips and other junk food. Chuck didn't know how much time had passed since he started eating, but he felt his stomach start to rumble as it expanded once again to accept his second food-binge in less than a week.

The pain hit him deep in his gut. Chuck knew that this quantity of food was causing his pain, but it was also causing him great happiness as his hunger gave way. He suddenly became aware that he needed to have a massive bowel movement. Clutching his belly for comfort, he staggered toward the narrow door that was the camper's restroom.

Chuck couldn't remember the last time he saw an actual clean, white toilet seat. As a bonus there was a giant 12-pack package of toilet paper. He dropped his multi-layers of clothing covering his ass and sat down almost simultaneously exploding his lower intestine through his sphincter. The smell was overpowering, but not as powerful as the sense of relief that washed over Chuck as he held his head in his hands and wept.