How The Hell?!

If You Had Any Brains, You Would've Gone To The Hospital - Preggo Sauce

"Hurry up, Tord!"

He was running as fast as his legs could carry him, panting from the effort. Zombies were hot on his tail, groaning loudly. He looked ahead to where Edd was holding the door to a porta potty open for him. He ran inside, and Tom quickly slammed the door shut, locking it afterwards. The trio slumped to the ground, worn out from running so much. Panting for air, they began to discuss their next move. Tord moved to sit somewhere more comfortable, deciding on a clean(ish) bathtub. He tried to settle his breathing, taking deep breaths. His lungs weren't in the best shape (partially due to smoking) so he had a hard time trying to catch his breath. He nearly stopped breathing when a slight tap from his stomach startled him. He brushed it off as a weird muscle spasm, but then it happened again. Placing a hand over his trenchcoat where his belly was, he tried to think of an explanation to his situation. Nothing seemed to make sense, but then he felt his stomach tense up. He screamed, gripping the sides of the tub like a life line, until after almost a full minute of agony it finally let up.

"What the hell Tord," Tom said angrily, "You're going to attract more zombies if you keep yelling!"

"I-I can't help it, something wrong Tom," he whimpered, shifting his position slightly.

His stomach tightened again, and he bit down on his hand to keep from screaming. His eyes were screwed shut, tears pricking the corners. When he relaxed, he removed his hand from his mouth, only to find that he was bleeding.

"O-oh god," he whined, trying to wipe away the salty trails rolling down his cheeks.

Tom and Edd were busy making a plan, it he could already tell that they weren't interested in what was happening to him.

"I'll just have to t-tough it out," he said to himself.

He threw his legs over the side of the tub, spreading them. Then, he waited for the pain to come. This time, when his stomach tightened again, it was accompanied by another tap to the inside of his stomach.

"Agh, what is that?" he asked aloud, leaning back.

When it finally let up, he was left a sweating, panting mess. His hair was starting to fall in his face, barely resembling horns anymore. Not that he cared or anything, it was just hard to see when his dark brown locks were obscuring his view. He screamed as his stomach tensed up again, wiggling his hips.

"I could r-really use s-some help here," he said, as sarcastically as he could. Tom and Edd ignored his silent plea for help, and he rolled his eyes.

The pains were starting to form a rhythm now, one surfacing every two to three minutes. He moaned after each one finished, not cared how much of a wimp he sounded right now. All pride went right out the window when they decided to make camp in a bathroom.

He was doing just fine, making it through every harsh cramp, until something odd happened. His stomach tensed up as usual, but then fluid rushed out of him, staining his jeans. His eyes went wide, and he tried to cover it up before Tom noticed.

It was too late however, and the eyeless Brit laughed, "Guess the commie's afraid of zombies."

"Cut it out Tom," he huffed, face turning red.

He then felt an intense rush of pain in his pelvis, and he screamed in agony.

"Shut up Tord, we're trying to think of something!" Edd yelled, whipping around to face him.

"I-I'm sorry!" he apologized, "S-something's happening to me and I don't know what it is!"

"Maybe he's on his period," Tom joked, immediately being silence by a kick to the face from Tord.