The room they entered was a spacious hall with two rooms to the left and a bathroom at the far end. Just a meter ahead of them was a staircase leading down to the ground floor, the railing made of sleek glass that gleamed in the dim light.
"Now, where could she be? Since she and her sister are scared of thunder, I'm sure they're downstairs with their mom. Hopefully, her father is still working at this hour."
Kris said, nodding to himself like a detective piecing together a mystery. He knew this place well, having visited with that traitorous best friend of his.
If he'd known that guy would betray him, he would have taken another course of action and ensured they suffered a humiliation beyond imagination.
"Well, then call her upstairs, if she hasn't turned her phone off already. I'm not optimistic, but we can start somewhere."
Axel said, just wanting to end this madness. He hadn't considered the seriousness of their situation. He and this human freight train had just broken into a house with three women inside while the man of the house was away.
This wasn't just a confrontation about cheating anymore; it had turned into a potential sitcom-level disaster.
If Kris's claims were true and the girl turned out to be a total bich, she could easily call the cops on them. Depending on how she spun the story, this could go from a "Jerry Springer" showdown to a "Law & Order" episode featuring charges of robbery or even assault.
'Oh, dear god...!'
Axel cursed his luck for ever being a loyal friend. Then, like a cartoon light bulb flickering on above his head, he had a brilliant idea.
'Well, we just have to run away and pretend we never came here—'
He didn't even finish his thought before he spun around, spotting brown footprints and stains all over the pristine tiles.
'Yep, my life is over...'
Those poop stains were undeniable DNA evidence. And if they tested the drain pipe, they'd find his DNA too. He was as cooked as a Christmas turkey.
For a second, Axel thought about aborting the mission and dragging Kris back to the safety of their homes, but that would mean leaving a trail of incriminating footprints. There was no way he was touching those stains to clean them up.
To make matters worse, the rainwater had spread the mess across the balcony, creating a modern art masterpiece of crappy DNA evidence.
'I am officially cooked... I ain't going to Bangkok anymore. Ain't gonna see any hot milfs around me. I should just say my goodbyes...'
Axel thought, feeling utterly dejected as he accepted his fate. His dreams of tropical getaways and exotic encounters were vanishing faster than a fart in the wind—unlike the one Kris just released.
Axel's musings were interrupted by a groaning sound. He looked up to see his hefty friend doubling over, clutching his stomach like he was about to rip it open and empty its contents. Alarmed, Axel moved toward him.
"Kris, what's happening?! Is it your stoma—"
Prrrrrrrrrrrrr~ klllchhchh~ Crackle~ Rumble~
Axel didn't even finish his sentence before a symphony of sounds erupted: lightning, thunder, and the most potent fart ever unleashed on the human race. Kris's nuke detonated right into Axel's face.
Axel dropped to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut, his eyes wide in shock, spasming uncontrollably as if he had been electrocuted.
The toxicity of the gas was off the charts, each release seemingly more powerful than the last, like Kris was a walking biological weapon with no upper limit.
By the time Axel regained control of his body, a full minute had passed. He lay there, checking his motor functions, making sure he hadn't been permanently disabled by the gas attack.
His mind was still reeling, dizzy from the olfactory assault, as he slowly sat up, wondering if he would ever recover from this nightmare.
'I think that's a new type of gas fatty just created.'
Axel thought, trying to slap some sense back into himself. After a few good face slaps, he looked around and realized Kris was no longer standing where he'd last seen him.
Fearing the worst, Axel scanned the room and spotted a chubby figure waddling toward the last door on the left wall.
Kris was hunched over, one hand clutching his stomach while the other was pressed firmly against his butt crack, clearly trying to prevent an impending volcanic eruption.
Axel followed Kris's path with his eyes and realized he was heading toward the bathroom. It was about time the walking gas leak decided to use the facilities, even if it was a bit too late to prevent the collateral damage.
Just as Axel thought the worst was over, his eyes caught something new on the floor. Not just the familiar brown footprints, but something small, brown, and slimy lying near them. It didn't take a detective to figure out what it was.
'Someone needs to call the chemical department and an exorcist too. Ain't no way anyone can live here anymore after this.'
Axel shuddered at the thought of what had transpired since Kris had entered the house. The place was practically a crime scene, needing a hazmat team and a priest to cleanse it of all the foulness Kris had brought with him.
Thump~ kkkllliiiccchhhh~ Plat~ Plrk~ splat~ plrup~
A series of unsavory wet thuds echoed from behind the bathroom door, sounding like a bowling ball made of squished intestines landing on a drum.
"Oooooowwwww~ my stomach~!"
Kris groaned and moaned like a whale with hemorrhoids, while Axel silently thanked the heavens for the heavy rain and thunder masking the sounds of this unholy exorcism from the poor family below.
If it weren't for the storm, they would have been evicted on grounds of air pollution alone.
'I think I need a new nose after this...'
Axel thought, grimacing at the lingering smell. It felt like he had inhaled the fumes straight from the depths of hell—no, that was an understatement.
It was more like breathing in the toxic emissions from an unwashed butt that hadn't seen a toilet or shower in over a year, surviving solely on a diet of spoiled milk, rotten durian, garlic aged beyond belief, and a splash of ethanol.
No, that still didn't capture the horror. Imagine that combined with the worst toxic gases from a chemical factory explosion, seasoned with a hint of sardines left to ferment in the sun. Even that couldn't fully convey the olfactory assault Axel had just endured.
He felt like he had taken a direct hit from the world's most vile bio-weapon, one so potent it could have been outlawed by the Geneva Convention.
Axel's nose was beyond recovery; it needed a complete overhaul, perhaps even an exorcism of its own to banish the evil smells that had tainted it forever.
It was like Kris had a superpower—if he ever got drafted into the army, all they'd need to do was send him behind enemy lines and wait for him to get captured.
The moment the enemy generals and officers started questioning him, Kris could just detonate his natural nuclear bomb, taking out the entire building. They wouldn't even need to track him; the army could pinpoint his location based on the toxic cloud emanating from one particular area.
"Grrrraaaargggghhhhh...."
Kris's blood-curdling scream erupted from the bathroom, perfectly timed with a thunderclap, as if he were a rabid demon being struck by a holy thunderbolt.
Axel quickly stood up and ducked behind the railing, hiding in a dark spot between the stairwell and a tall plant. While Kris was busy "exorcising," Axel thought it best to locate the target of their mission.
He did not want to waste any more time in this house of horrors.
'I guess what we've done here is far worse than what she did to Kris... poor guy, first he gets cheated on by a girl, and now he's getting betrayed by food too.'
Axel mused, shaking his head.
Axel peered down into the living room, where a tasteful set of furniture adorned the space. It wasn't as lavish as his penthouse, but it screamed higher middle class with a touch of IKEA chic.
However, it wasn't the decor that caught Axel's attention—it was the people lounging on the couch that made his blood boil.
There, sitting comfortably, was a girl who looked like she could have walked straight off a fashion runway, and across from her, another supermodel-like figure was cozying up to a guy who could easily be on the cover of GQ.
The trio looked like they had stepped out of a designer catalog, but Axel's jaw dropped at the sight of the guy casually running his hand along the girl's back, fingers subtly tracing patterns on her t-shirt, as if trying to keep it hidden from the other girl in the room.
Axel was far too familiar with this "couple." How could he not be? They were the reason he and Kris had stormed this house of horrors.
Layla, Kris' supposed girlfriend, was snuggling up with Brent, Kris' so-called best friend. Axel's eyes narrowed as he watched the sneaky caresses—he had seen this kind of soap opera drama unfold only in terrible reality TV shows, and yet here it was, live and uncut in Layla's living room.
The audacity was so thick Axel could practically slice it with a knife, and the irony wasn't lost on him either. Here they were, breaking and entering like wannabe vigilantes, while Layla and Brent were playing out their own daytime drama.
If it weren't so maddening, it might have been funny. Axel half-expected a camera crew to pop out and yell, "You've been pranked!" but no, this was all too real.