One day in class I was so bored I started

One day in class I was so bored I started eating.

I ate and ate until I could not eat any more.

I ate everything in sight. My desk. My papers. My backpack. My teacher. My classmates. I ate the entire school. Not a crumb was left. I burped. I think I'm gonna be sick.

Especially from the cafeteria food. My stomach could handle wooden desks, but the pizza left it growling in protest. I stroked my belly lovingly. "Make room for some chalk, m'kay?"

And then my belly replied. I don't mean by making some gurgling noise, I mean it actually replied. With a voice and words. My stomach had a nasally voice like Woody Allen and

a real potty mouth too. My belly spoke like a drunken whiny small Jewish man with glasses that had done three tours in the Navy Seals and dropped F-bombs like Dice Clay. My belly

was not as impressive as Mr Floppy Pants'. He liked eating lots of fried fast food, washing it down with a large cola or two. For dessert he'd eat pie, cake, candy til he passed ou

t on his bed of broccoli. Mr Floppy Pants inhaled junk food like it was a transitory fad, but his pants still fell down inadvertently. One day, his friend Mr Cogno suggested a belt

could just walk into any old Gap and buy a shirt at a discount. I called the Fashion Police, who issued Mr. Floppy Pants a citation for a flagrant misuse of pinstripes.