Tuesday, April 5, 2016

I Think My Stomach is Haunted by SpookyLady InSanDiego

While sitting at work one day I began to realize I wasn’t feeling well at all. I talked to my boss and she told me to go home and get some rest.

All the way home I felt my stomach wasn’t very happy. I tried to ignore it, thinking I was just thirsty. When I got home I took a few sips of water. My stomach didn’t like that one bit. It let me know exactly what it thought of the water as well as my breakfast. It was extremely unpleasant. I poked my stomach with my finger. “I hate you,” I grumbled. It responded by making me belch.

After napping for a couple of hours, I got up and wrapped myself in a blanket on the couch. When I woke up I decided to watch some TV. Suddenly I heard a strange, disembodied voice: “I’m hungry,” it wheezed.

I was alone. I looked around. It wasn’t the cat napping at my feet. “Hungryyyyy,” the voice said, louder this time. Being a connoisseur of the paranormal for a second I thought, “Cool, my house is haunted after all.” Then I realized it wasn’t my house.

It was my stomach.

“Are you serious?” I thought to myself. Then I heard the voice again. “Yes,” my stomach growled, “I’m hungry.” I laughed. “Oh really,” I said out loud. My stomach clenched and hissed, “Eat something!” I sighed. “Fine, but if you send it back up you’re not getting anything more until tomorrow,” I said, looking at my belly. Stomach chuckled.

I went to the kitchen and got a piece of bread. It seemed a touch dry, so I added a thin layer of butter. I ate it slowly. It was good. Stomach was happy. It didn’t reject it. I felt better.

About an hour later I heard Stomach complaining once more. “That was good,” Stomach said of the bread. “Do it again.” Huh? “Are you kidding me?” I said. “Did I stutter?” Stomach asked. It was starting to sound like the drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket. “Do it again!” Stomach demanded. I didn’t move. Stomach got mad and gave me what I guess was its best effort at a kick. “Go, go, go!” it hollered. “Fine,” I said, unwrapping myself from the warmth of my blanket and went to the kitchen. I got another piece of bread. Thin layer of butter. Ate it slowly. Stomach was happy.

Another hour later my stomach was at it again. “Grilled cheeeeeeeeeese!” it howled. My jaw dropped. “No freaking way!” I said, shocked. “Get on it, woman, NOW!” Stomach demanded. Disgruntled, I went to the kitchen. Made a grilled cheese. Ate it slowly. Stomach was pleased. “Nothing but tea for you for the rest of the night, Mr. Cranky,” I told it.

Stomach kicked me again. Jerk. I’d much rather it had been a ghost.

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