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Tummy Betrayal

My tummy has betrayed and humiliated me.

My work friends have cottoned to the fact that I have a velvety baritone and a performing-arts background, so I've been doing little narrations for stuff for social-media postings.


Just as I was finishing up this little two-minute narrative my tummy, which had not yet dined (except for mucho coffee) at two o'clock in the afternoon, decided I was in need of a takedown.

"And in summing up, this piece is all about [grglgrglgggblWHEEEOMMMGGGurgleblorpblap]... artistic commitment."


And the two other people doing the recording looked at each other, cracked up, did the playback, and OMG IT WAS TOTALLY AUDIBLE. And then one of them was like HAHAHA, EVERYONE, GUESS WHAT WE CAUGHT ON TAPE? and I died the death of embarrassed tummy betrayal.

Can I go back, do you think? Or is it time to get the diamonds out from under the mattress and light out for the territories?

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