Letter from my stomach
Monday, Dec. 16, 2002, 9:19 P.M.

Beth,

This is your stomach. I have just recieved news from your mouth that it is going on strike. I'd like to point out to you that this might be the best hour that we've ever had down here. You might not know this, but we've been hard at work for 22.9 years, helping you digest any odd things you might eat, sparing you from getting sick, increasing production of acid, and killing all of the nasty germs that try to get past us. The pancreas department helped us out a little bit by sending us some recruits which probably led to you being diabetic (sorry about that) but since then production has been up 22%, which could be related to the decrease of junk food since then, but we can't prove anything. We've tried renovating down here, but we can't seem to get anything accomplished since every time we try to get started, you throw another slice of pizza or pop tart at us. For god's sake, give us an hour! These apples are killing us! Yeah, I'm sure your heart appriciates it, but everyone's running around screaming like they fell in the acid! Let me give you some advice. If you want the boys from the pancreas department to go back and do their job, please give us a vacation here. The large intestine is trying to boycott us, the esophagus is trying to start a food fight with us, and the heart is yelling at us to try to get all of the fat out of the food. "Send it to the large intestine!" it yells. "Don't let any of the blood cells bring it up here!" it yells. Well how the hell can we do all this and digest your food at the same time? I hate to do this to you, but we're going to make you nauseous for a while so that we can get our job done. That might teach you a lesson. One can only hope.

We're going on vacation!

Your Stomach

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