Ah, bliss. The utter aroma of other the other sweet cakes, hot and fresh from the pan. I am one of the last to be made, and ultimately the first cake to be eaten. One of the cakes below me taps my posterior.
I will not reply. He is, almost literally, beneath me.
“Oi!” the cake taps me again. Did he not have respect for his elders?
“What?”
“Nothing…I just was wondering…” he paused for a ridiculous dramatic effect. “ARE YOU READY TO GET EATEN??”
I sigh, refusing to respond for such childish behavior. From somewhere above me, a lovely voice begins to speak, her vocal cords actually making me want to be eaten.
“Oh!” she exclaims, “Valek, you shouldn’t have!”
“It’s your birthday, my love,” another voice, male, I presume, responds. Valek...I like the name. Perhaps I shall call myself Valek. “Yelena, you deserve a break. And no, I haven’t poisoned it.”
The female, Yelena, laughs. The plate on which I am resting upon the others is lifted up slightly and I am stabbed with a horrible looking, pointed, silver utensil. I resist the urge to cry out in pain, for I will never acknowledge that anyone but myself has the control over me. I am my own master. No one can ever change that.
Suddenly, I am lifted up, and I see a wide opening in the face of the female. The oral cavity? I should hope not. Is my demise to come soon? I decide to face the cavity and see a wonderfully dangerous, pearly forest of teeth. Oh dear.
The incisors bite into me and tear a piece of me apart. Oh, the injustice! Do I not get any say in how I am to be ingested? Pain shoots all through my body, and I no longer wish to be alive. As more and more of me is being held by the canine teeth and being torn apart by the incisors, I make a decision:
I will rebel. I am not going to be swallowed by a filthy human. I am Valek the Sweet-Cake and I am all mighty.
As of this moment, I am being masticated. I am being ground, smashed, and beaten to a sweet pulp by the bicuspids and flat, hard, painful molars. The tongue smashes me against the hard palate near the teeth and the soft palate on the top of the oral cavity. I know instinctively that I am soon to be deglutinated, as I am now a butt-ugly bolus dripping with saliva. Valek the Bolus. Doesn’t have a very nice ring to it.
I move to pharynx, where I know I must put my plan into place. I halt and look for the uvula, hoping to make this Yelena throw me out of her infernal oral cavity. But alas! Her uvula rests at the end of her nasal passage, too far from my reach. I hinder the process of deglutination a bit more, as I frantically search for the epiglottis. I pray to the Great Maple Syrup that it is has not been able to close properly. But, as my luck would have it, it rests peacefully at the top of the trachea. Desperate, I attach onto the edge of the epiglottis, and hope that she will not swallow me.
Such hopes, however are crushed when cool milk douses me and forces me down the esophagus.
If she wants war, then she will get war.
Peristalsis starts propelling me down towards the esophageal sphincter, after which, I know there is no return. I decide to forget about ever returning to the sun-lit world and to focus on my new mission of not letting go of my nutrients. I fall through the cardia, the first part of the stomach, and see the fundus, where a great bubble of air awaits to be expelled. I land in the body of the stomach, where the gastric juices decide to violate me and break me down even more. Pain wracks through my body as I go from butt-ugly bolus to disgusting chyme. I do not know what is worse, mechanical digestion by being crushed and mashed in the oral cavity, or chemical digestion where gastric juices threaten to end my consciousness.
Presently, I move to the pyloric sphincter, having tried unsuccessfully to latch on to the stomach rugae-the folds in the stomach- and am propelled to the small intestine. Here, in the duodenum, I am injected with even more acids, and I wonder how much more pain I can endure. Bile, fresh from the liver and gall bladder breaks the fats in my contents, and I am repulsed that humane societies let such suffering to occur. Pancreatic juices also come to break me down further, and I wonder exactly how I am to stop being absorbed.
I loop through the duodenum to the jejunum, where I suffer eight feet of being ripped apart and being absorbed into Yelena‘s body, there being nothing I can do to stop it. Villi brush, tickle, and take my essentials away through the jejunum and then the ileum, another twelve feet of desperation on my part.
Finally, I arrive at the ileocecal valve, after which I have no idea of what is to occur. This time, however, I swallow my fear and propel myself through the valve and into what is the secum of large intestine. I see the appendix and try to lodge myself into it, for I have been told that appendicitis is rather painful and would show Yelena the suffering I am going though. But alas, the way to it is blocked by the remnants of the sweet cake that was once below me. There is not much to say for the large intestine, except that now, water is sucked from me for five feet, and the parts of the large intestine are terribly named.
The ascending colon (going up); the transverse colon (going across); the descending colon (going down); and the sigmoid colon (going back); whomever named them needs to look at a thesaurus.
I am now nothing more than a brown piece of yuck. To add to the injustice of being digested, bacteria have feasted on me and now, I am forever scarred with the ghosts of the many bacteria I killed. I come to a short stop in the six inch rectum, where the remnants of more bits of food await what I am told is the anus. I am now Valek the Feces, a waste product. After the anus, there is only one thing:
Freedom.
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