Man, what a night. I'd had six burritos with refried beans and extra hot tamale sauce, chased by half a two-six of texas whisky and most of a jar of pickled eggs.
Somehow I'd managed to make it to the biffy, and something evil was about to breach the gate I'd inadvertently opened to hell through my tortured bowel, if the gutteral growling from underneath was any indicator.
I heard from the stall beside me, "Sweet jimminy cricket! Are you all right in there?"
That's when most of my innards exited my body, along with three metric tonnes of what felt like molten brimstone. I answered, "Bgaaahhhgg!"
Without missing a beat, you started yelling, "Puuuush! Puuuuuuuush!"
This prompted three others who'd apparently entered while I was otherwise occupied to start yelling the same...
"C'mon! Puuuush! Puuuuuuush!"
I grabbed the stall walls, braced my feet and pushed to beat hell. "Ghaaaarghaaaaghaaaa!"
My bowels answered in kind with a sound not unlike a mighty river throwing a heard of bison into a half-full olympic swimming pool.
In what seemed like an epoch, I emerged from the stall sweating, bleeding, and raggedly breathing. I found you, like a Canadian soldier at the Somme, still at your post when the others had apparently fled.
"Thanks.", said I, and we wandered off to enjoy the rest of the Con'.
"No problem, man, no problem."