Whenever I’m feeling sick or in pain I start to imagine parts of my body as mob bosses. Like I’ve fucked up a deal on the out on the West Dock, and my stomach has rounded out a small crew to see to it that I don’t fuck up again.
I’m just in tears, trying to make deals with it and promising that I’ll do better.
“Oh god, please stomach…I don’t eat no more week-old pizza, I swear it. I’ll…I’ll drink more water, you just gotta give me another chance!”
“I dunno boys, he sound sincere to you? Maybe we let you toss in the wind a bit, see how you feel after a few days worth of cramps and vomiting.”
“Oh god, please, I didn’t know.”
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