Greetings from the Coffee Shop Where a Chatty Man Has Asked to Share a Table

Dear Friend,

It’s me, The Pit that inhabits your stomach. I usually stay in the center of your tummy doing stomach things but unfortunately today I’m writing to you from the deepest depths of what could possibly be considered your “gut.” What was supposed to be a nice relaxing stay at the center of your body went completely haywire when a guy asked to share your table and promised to “be quiet and let you work.”

I knew when he promised, apropos of nothing, to be quiet that he was definitely going to stop your working process to tell you he’d thought about going to law school but ended up not going and is actually really really happy that he didn’t go. Like, really happy.

Thus, I had to make my way to your abdomen. I think I’ll be here for a while as the man launched into an unprompted story about his trip to Mumbai. Hope to be back soon.

xoxo Pit


Warmest Hello from the Corner of a Party Where You Have Discovered Someone Hot

Greetings!

I’m writing to you from, like, 60 different locations in your abdomen right now. That hot person across the room started making eyes at you and I was like, “ok… now I HAVE to leave my stomach hut where I sit around making bile so I can go explode near the heart and crotch.”

You know how it goes.

Anyways, I’m mailing you a care package of adrenaline to make you feel too overly excited and a little off-kilter. I hope this helps! Next stop on my trip—right behind your ribs where I will ache as you lie in bed recounting the stupid things you said during this impending conversation.

Have fun!

—Pit


Hi from the Top of a Wooden Carnival Rollercoaster Some Guy with a Cigarette Nailed Together 20 Hours Ago!

Heeeeeyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!

You’re not going to believe where I am today. Your throat! While you’re on your first (of many??) dates with the hot person from the party, I’m spending some time tooling around your esophagus reminding you that no one from the state department checked the stability of this ride you’re on.

The acoustics are great up here in your throat. I stopped by the larynx when your date said “omg I love rollercoasters,” your vocal folds when the 17-year-old working the ride had a difficult time strapping you in (an interaction which ended with him shrugging and you laughing 3 octaves higher than normal), and now I’m in whatever that flap that decides if something is food or air. Can you believe I’m considered neither?

I don’t have much more time to chat, though. You’re about to fall 45 feet and I’m about to tickle the base of your brain. Later, when I’ve returned, we will throw up together in front of your date for a little bit—promise!

Lots of looOOOOOOOOVVVVEEE


Wish You Were Here: Outside the Upstairs Neighbor’s Door Leaving an Overly Polite Note Asking Them to Walk More Quietly

Hey there!

Popping in to say “hi” from the top of your chest where I’m staying while you tape a confrontational letter to your loud neighbors front door. I’ve actually learned a new trick while I’ve been up here: pulsing. I thought that was just for the heart, but no. I found out stomachs can beat, too! The beauty of travel. I’ve found it happens more when you think about how maybe they will open the door right when you’re taping on the letter and you’ll be forced to speak to them face to face and you’ll get nervous (my bad) and say a few sentences that don’t really make sense and you’re a little too nice about it so it downplays the issue and then the issue continues and you have to go back up again but then it seems like you’re just being, like, kind of annoying and– Yep there it is, I’m pulsing again.

Hey, have you thought about if they know how to fight? And things get physical? Aaaand, you’re asking me to stop. My bad.

Anyways, good luck. The hot person from the party said they totally believe in you and I do too—though, it would actually help me out a lot if you stopped thinking of that moment with hot party person as every time you remember her sweet words I have to break into a million pieces and perform jazz hands. Really difficult to focus on the task at hand—knotting up in your chest in a way that makes you want to chicken out.

Much love,

—Pit


Adventure Awaits: We Are Getting Dumped on the Couch

Hey buddy…

Checking in from right below your belly button. So, I noticed the hot person from the party is breaking up with you on the couch right now. That’s why I made my trip. Please don’t be mad that they’re citing us throwing up on the wooden carnival rollercoaster as one of the factors in their decision. I recommended not throwing up mid-ride but to each their own, I guess.

I am very sorry for the dumping. I’ll miss making trips to tickle the back of your ribs when she laughs just as much as you will. You’re about to enter your depression era and I get terrribleeee reception there, so I’m gonna be off the grid for a bit. Please don’t forget to feed me.

—Pit.


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