25-5-2011
“G’day stomach. You right?” Jared asked stomach. They happened to meet up just outside of the Kimberly Grande hotel room. Jared was dressed in a white polo and stomach was freshly showered in a sticky slime.
“Yeah, I’m right you bloody Yank. Its about the first time in week’s I’ve been able to think two thoughts consecutively without experiencing sweaty palms from nausea,” replied the stomach.
“Woo, sorry mate for asking. Someone’s a little grouchy. Anyways, I could eat the crotch out of a low flying duck. You wanna grab some chow?” Jared asked as he turned towards the dining room and peered up from stomach to look over the wooly butt gum and boab looming nearby.
“No, not right now, Mate. I just don’t get what I’m saying. Are you listening tome or just hearing and nodding your head?”
“Hear what man? I’m freaking hungry lets go, we’ll discuss this on the bus,” replied Jared.
“No, listen to me. First, you pour a shit load of coffee into me and stay up to all hours of the night polishing black knobs in your kitchen before the trip. Then you start feeding me tasty Australian Shiraz on fancy date night but you screw it all up by burping down some cigarette smoke. What the hell were you thinking?” said the stomach.
“Well, I –“
“No, you weren’t thinking,” said the stomach, “You were enjoying your life, living it up, carrying on like a frat boy on Sigma Phi date night, all giddy and shit over this big Australia trip, oohhhhhh!” The stomach pointed his intestinal finger out at Jared’s face and bits of slime musk flew out into the 22c air. Jared stared blankly at stomach.
“Mr.FancyTravelTheWorldAndGetAllIntrospectivePhilosophicalBullshitMan. Well, you know who runs this vessel? Do you? Do you know who actually keeps the energy levels up, who pays the NYSEG bill, who takes out the trash-so to speak, and has to keep all these other bloody organs fed and happy, me! You didn’t think that I might need a little extra rest before this little adventure? You didn’t think that Mr.PatheticPukeontheDogGetsQueezyWhenSomeoneDrivesaStickCan’tRidetheBabySwingsInThePlayYard would maybe need to treat his stomach a little better before traveling to far off lands. Did you?” asked the Stomach.
“Well, I’ve flown before and it seemed like it wasn’t a big deal. You are normally reliable and—“ Jared said.
“Yeah, I’m reliable. Doing all of your mindless uncouncious work down here. I don’t need weekly meetings, I don’t need micromanaged, I don’t mind being the work horse, me and the boys, intestine, colon, sphincter, that guy still has the best jokes, upper GI, and we don’t want your meddling. However. You should have thought of us a little before you decided to travel for 24 hours straight, eat a bunch of foreign food, start driving on the wrong side of the road, go out drinking heavily in the wine region, fly again to some wacked out town called Darwin, get on a Bus!, get on a Boat! drink with 27 native Australians on a daily basis, and then wake up early to get on a single engine plane,” the stomach stopped and took a breath. He was turning redder in the face and his intestinal feet were tapping rapidly on the pavement, a green tree frog jumped on by.
“Really, a tiny plane. You thought after all of that you could get on a small engine plane at 2000 feet up and fly about the Kimberly without repercussions? I’m sorry to inconvenience you but you act like a brainless frat boy sometimes. You need a mother. No, you need a labodome. How could you treat me like that? And I tried, believe you me. We tried the breathing mantras. We tried to get some extra oxygen down here. We tried to stare at the horizon. We tried to tap into the chi energy. We tried to connect the hands up like jumper cables on me just to give me a little extra juice. But no. I had enough and as I spilled all of my contents up your mouth and into the convenient “souvenir” bag the pilot gave to you, I felt kind of glad to have embarrassed you.”
“I did feel sick but the embarrassment was satisfying and you should feel ashamed of your Mr.FratboyBeTheCoolAmericanGuyHangingOutinAustralia ways because you vomited three times while in a plane with 6 strangers and your father. You ruined a 1 hour beautiful picturesque flight for those people. People spent at least $400 that day to make the trip. Furthermore, you almost made Irv sick, did you see him fidget, not look at you, stare off straight, and adjust the air? He almost blew his wad of breakfast. How would that of been for you? A father and son pukefest on the most brilliant of Australian days to the Bungles. I would like to have seen that. Then I would have been proud of you, you, you, mindless insensitive stomach abuser.”
“C’mon, stomach. Give me a break here. Hasn’t it all been worth it? You have to admit the food has been good? C’mon,” said Jared.
“I’ll admit nothing! You have to admit you seriously missed out on a common sense education. Where did you go to school? UNH? Seriously, you paid out of state tuition for that party school? They didn’t teach you anything. You are like a little baby running around with a play diploma on the wall,” said the stomach.
“Ok, I’ll admit that you have been neglected and some of the decision making authority has been geared towards feeding the optical nerves and dream centers. I’ve had to do the best with what I’ve had and I knew I could rely on you,” replied Jared.
“You rely on me?” asked the stomach.
“You know I do! Brain doesn’t let me think about you much because brain knows you get r done. Its not brain’s fault either, don’t blame him. I trust your decision making authority and rely on it for the betterment of the team,” Jared said
The stomach didn’t say anything. He looked down at the ground and kicked the red dirt with a strand of intestine.
“Stomach, buddy, pal. Listen, you just have to work through this one and then we’ll get you back to the Aldi’s diet, Willet water, and the Edgewater Pizza you crave. We’ll get regular rest, we’ll only have coffee for writing days off. It will be grand. In the meantime, I’m counting on you to keep this whole vessel afloat. We’ve got an adventure to have here mate.”
The stomach looked up from the slimy dust patches he created in the sand, “As long as you know who the real number 2 is around here. And I’m not talking about the waste matter! Brain gets all the credit and I’m sick of it! Even heart thinks he wears the pants around here and you know how I feel about dickhead. I’m the most important next to you. So, can you call me Number 2 from now on? Number 2, like the guy on Star Trek The Next Generation, I'm like the Riker to your Picard.” said stomach.
“Sure Number Two. Whatever you say Number Two,” said Jared as he saluted the stomach, gave stomach a little noogie, and they headed off for some nurtrigrain cereal and tea.
