As you walk, your eyes flit from left to right, looking at the trees on the left and the field stretching off into infinity on the right. Just how far are you from the station? Signing, you resign yourself to a particularly long walk as your stomach lurches again.
That stupid old bag. First, you miss the game, and now she drives off without giving any service information. Guess you know where your next few paychecks will be going. A sudden breeze starts up, causing the branches of the trees to rustle, creating an unpleasantly somber sound. Pulling your coat around you, you begin walking quicker.
All of a sudden, a pressure begins forming in your lower back region. Fearing it to be fart, you try and hold it in as long as you can, but the pressure just builds and builds until you can't stand it anymore. You let it go. But instead of feeling gas, you cry out as a sharp pain erupts from down there. What just happened? You look back, but don't see anything of interest. You probably forgot a pin in your pants or something.
You see a signpost up ahead. 'Texaco. One Mile." The sign proclaims. Happy you only have one mile left to go, you begin walking quicker. But suddenly, there is another sharp pain at the base of your spine. And this time, you can feel something squirming in your underwear. Worried that you may have just shit yourself, you are all but running now, down the dark, deserted country road at night, towards the fluorescent glow of the lamps in the Gas Station.
It seems like each step you take elicits another prick of pain and the sensation that the squirming thing in your underwear is getting longer, coiling up even. You look back and see that the seat of your pants is bulging, struggling to hold in whatever is in your pants. You see the lights of the station up ahead and cry out in relief as you dash towards them.
More pricks and squirming follows as you race across the concrete top filled with pumps, luckily deserted with cars. Your tight pants finally give way with a loud tearing noise, causing something to hang limply down your butt as you pull open the door of the outside bathroom and rush inside, closing the door behind you.
You flick on the switch and examine yourself in the mirror. From the front, you look normal. But turning to the side, you cry out in shock at the tail hanging down from your tailbone.