On fridays, we go out for lunch

I am lucky enough to work in a company that every day buys lunch for its employees, and even more: on fridays we are allowed to go out and get lunch wherever we want, as they are usually very slow days.

Last friday, me and a couple of co-workers wanted to give a try to a mexican place we have heard about, called La Fábrica de Tacos, wich was about half an hour from our office by car. We asked our boss, who is a very accesible and good man, if he wanted to join us, but he declined.
It was actually something good, because without him around none of us would have any trouble if we had a beer or two during lunch. Of course, you can’t drink alcohol during work time, but the boss wasn’t around, so, what could go wrong?
Anyways, the place and the food were great. We ate until we were stuffed and drank with moderation. Once we were finished, we took separated taxis, as there wouldn’t be enough room for all of us in just one of them, so it was just me an another one of my coworkers in the car. Let’s give him the name Charlie.
As I said, it was about half an hour from the restaurant to the office, probably a bit more since it was a bit more of traffic by then. We talked mostly about how good the food had been, specially Charlie, who had eaten more than anybody else. He had also had too beers, that were about 500cc each. It really wasn’t a surprise that he had to let go a few burps that he tried to disimulate. 
However, about half way through, I started hearing subtle growls from his side of the seat that quickly became louder and more noticeable. I could see him placing one hand over his stomach without looking away from the window, but letting go a sigh that didn’t sound like relief, but more like worry. 
There was more traffic indeed, and we were going through a bit slower than expected, while the activity inside Charlie’s system seemed to go faster by the minute, and now he had started shaking his left leg. I asked him if he was fine, I had to. He said he was okay, but that he really needed to take a piss. This answer actually surprised me, because after what happened, I thought that it was the other thing what he needed to take. Anyways, we were only a five, ten minutes max, away from the office, so I figured out he didn’t have much to worry about.
Although it seems that what was a really short time for me, was a hell of a long one for him. He kept shaking his leg, his belly kept making noises and even though I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to embarrass him, I could tell he was letting go silent farts.
After about 45 minutes we finally made it to the building our office was located. I expected him to rush inside as soon as he could get out of the taxi, but he didn’t, maybe because he didn’t want to make his desperation more noticeable, or maybe because he wouldn’t be able to run after so many tacos. For my delight, once we reached the elevator, we had to wait for it to come down from the 12th floor. The whole time, Charlie had his stare fixed at the numbers going down, while shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Once in the elevator, we had to go up to the 8th floor, and it was the same. By this point I was sure that his full bladder wasn’t his only worry, because it only took him two floors to fill the almost hermetic place with the not so pleasant scent of his silent ones. 
The doors finally opened, and just a couple of seconds later we were in our office. He now did rush to the bathroom, and I calmly followed him. He was already in one of the two stalls when I got in, so I took the other one. Just a second after, my suspicions were confirmed as I heard a strong stream of piss hitting the water, soon followed by the sound of a massive dump falling.

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