In My Stomach: Part I

I was standing on the curb waiting for my bus to arrive. But as I did, I surmised that something wasn’t right in my stomach. The bus pulled up in front of me and I got in. By the time I reached my destination, I was feeling really sick.

Three hours earlier…

The burrito came down the esophagus and hit the stomach hard. Burrito got up and looked around the stomach. All he could see was what looked like a town in a western. And the townspeople just did their business. He had never seen so much food since his life in the grocery store. A spaghetti noodle walked up to him.

“Howdy, partner!” he said. “I’m Noodle. What’s your name?”

“My name is Burrito,” he replied. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the Township of Stomach.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Burrito noticed the badge on Noodle’s vest. “Are you the sheriff or something?”

“I’m the deputy sheriff.” Then someone shouted for the Deputy. There was a lady who was sitting on a wagon waving to Noodle.

“Goodbye, deputy,” the lady corn chip waved.

The noodle waved back. “Goodbye, Miss Corn Chip. Have a safe journey. I hope to rendezvous with you in the future.”

“Where is she going?”

“She’s going on to the Oregon Trail.”

“All the way to Oregon?”

“Nope,” the deputy answered. “It’s just what we call it. It actually leads all the way to Porcelain country.”

Burrito didn’t know what to make of all this. Being cooped up in a box with a bunch of other burritos and being frozen for a while wasn’t his favorite thing in the world either, but at least he survived.

The deputy led Burrito to the Cardia Hotel.

“Well, you just hang out here for a while and you’ll figure out how all this goes.”

“How what goes?”

“The cycle of our lives. And here, you might need this.” The deputy gave Burrito a holster with a gun inside.

“What would I need this for?”

“This is the Western generation. Every food must have a gun.” Then the deputy walked away.

Burrito walked up to his room and put his stuff away. Then he decided he would embark on a walk around town.

Burrito walked all around town when he got a little thirsty, so he walked into the Saloon.

When he entered the room, the bartender, named Steak, smiled. “You’re the new bloke, aren’t ya’ mate?” The Australian accent was thick, but Burrito heard it well enough to understand it. So he politely nodded. “What’ll ya’ have, mate?”

“Uh, water please.”

“Sure thing, mate.” Then Steak went to get the drink when Burrito suddenly heard a big commotion outside.

“Oh, no! It’s the convoy!” someone yelled.

Steak raced to the window. “It’s them, mate.” Then he jumped and hid under the bar. Burrito didn’t know what was going on. Steak peeked his head up. “Hey, mate, get down here if you love life.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m here!” The voice came from the doors. Burrito turned to see vegetables standing in the doorway. There was a broccoli sprout, a carrot, two peas, two pieces of corn, and their leader was a potato. The potato and his friends walked up to the bar.

“I’m who everyone is afraid of: me and my gang. We are the terror of this town.” The potato made it to the bar and reached over and grabbed the Steak by the head and pulled him up. “Bartender, get me a root beer.” The others asked for one too.

Then the potato turned to Burrito. “Do, you know who I am?”

“N-no. I’m new here.” Burrito said as the gang members started laughing. “What?”

“My name is Poe. This is Brocc.” He motioned to the broccoli sprout. “Rotten Car.” The carrot. “The Pod Brothers.” The peas. “Corny Joke and his brother Cob.” The pieces of corn.

“What do we do with him, boss?” said Rotten Car as he and Brocc grabbed Burrito’s arms. Poe cocked his gun.

“We’ll show him what we do to newcomers. Hook him to the wall.” The gang members obeyed. Then Poe pointed his gun at Burrito.

To Be Continued…