My stomach has experienced better days. All of this panicked tightening, coupled with the intake of volatile acids that react harshly with unsettled stomach acids. I'm sorry, stomach. I've overlooked your feelings. But you've made your point, and you've made it clear as day. And really, it's just gotten to the point where I'm gonna have to tell you to just knock it off. You're starting to interfere with my responsibilities. When I'm put in strange, unfamiliar circumstances I tend to act impulsively. You know this. It's nothing personal. Yet. I mean, keep it up and we'll make it personal. I'll put an ulcer on you. What? You don't believe me? Try me.
Look. Forget that. I don't want to fight. I know this guy. He's a peer listener. He volunteers at his high school. I think he'd be willing to sit down with us and help us work all this stuff out. I don't want to keep fighting like this. I need you to digest my food. And you need my body to put yourself into. The last thing I want to do is remove you. I mean, I could try and find another stomach, but we both know how hard it is to find a good fit. So whaddya say?
Awesome. give me a hug. Just gimme a hug, for crying out loud! It doesn't mean we're gay! Geez. Now what do you want for breakfast?
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