Chewing through the textures dancing in my mouth
Reveling in the amount of noise that escapes my piehole
Until everything Is broken down into the mush my stomach desires
Necessitating another bite of that audio and physical harmony
Chomping down on another symphony of mastication
Hope there are many encores!
Popping his shirt in victory
Regaling his opponent with trash talk
It would make most people sick to their stomach
Doing it to his twelve-year-old son, well that was over the top
Extreme hubris was his specialty, and this was his teaching moment
So all this preponderance of togetherness made Pete practically sick to his poor stomach
Pushing people away was what Pete was professional at
Leave him in a group of pleasantly participating people
It was doomed to pyrotechnics and pointless pugilism
Then he would peace out, professing he had to pee.
Venomous words spewed with intense malice
It made the whole encounter even more toxic
Leaving me looking for the exit
Lo, there was no exit to be found
As I was cut off by more vile miscreants
It made me sick to my stomach
Now just because I had poisoned their water supply…
Dipsy doo, spin and twirl
It made her stomach do flip flops
Zip to her left with another pirouette
Zoom to the right and then the ride was done
Yielding shaky legs and a reeling sense of balance
Getting your start in a new subject was never easy
Retching the contents of her stomach emphasized that
Eventually, she wandered back to the festivities at the town square
Everyone had finished setting up their ecological project posters
Now that made her more envious than she thought possible.
Pushing that all aside she still had a strong project
Oil didn’t have clout here unless you put olive in front of it, which she did
When the judging panel saw her project on using it to make electricity
Even the capability to use nasty congealed stuff from the local restaurants
Really it was impossible not to see its potential so she came in first
Nibbling on fresh air
And that was not satisfying
Knowing nothing was coming
Reaching for a cup of tea
Everything will be okay
Even if his stomach disagreed
Sweet nothings flowed from his mouth
Obvious to her now, he didn’t mean a thing he said
Until that moment she thought they had a chance
Reality left a bitter taste in her mouth, and her stomach roiled
Exacerbating the situation further he kept staring at her friend’s chest
Displeased with the whole situation she left him stranded at the party
I’m like a broken clock, right twice a day. Unfortunately, this was not one of them. How did I know? The man’s fist changing the direction my chin had been pointing mere moments earlier was my first hint. Luckily my body is that of a trained warrior. Well one that had way too much vodka to drink, hadn’t seen combat in the last twelve years and spent half of that time eating fancy buttery French pastries for a living.
At least gravity didn’t fail me. I collapsed to Mother Earth’s embrace. I must have offended her as well since her arms were so hard and cold. I wanted to mourn this decline in our relationship when the aforementioned man decided to kick me in the gut. That was his big mistake. I had him right where I wanted him. I folded myself around that foot and introduced the caught appendage to the regurgitated contents of my lunch, which included an egg sandwich encased in a wonderfully flaky croissant dosed with a lemony hollandaise. It was so good going down, but not so much coming back the other way.
Still, that was enough to make the man yank his foot out and leave me alone. As I laid there in my own stomach juices I wondered how this could get worse. Then I snuffled.
Man, stomach acid and nostrils just don’t mix.
Giving his best had always been Amir’s motto, but others just wanted a hand out
Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out an extra twenty and handed it over
And just like magic, his truck would be the next one unloaded.
Funny how feeding greed made Amir sick to his stomach
Too bad he had to keep a two liter of Pepto-Bismol close at hand