My Stomach Hates Me Ice Age Novels & Stories

I muttered under my breath, tossing the bag carelessly onto the floor. A second later, my stomach let out a loud, betraying growl, shattering every ounce of pride I had left. I stared down at myself in disbelief. "Seriously?" My stomach answered with another shameless growl. "Traitor," I muttered, crossing my arms and glaring at the bag on the floor. For nearly a full minute, neither of us moved. Then my stomach growled again, even louder, and I let out a defeated groan. "Fine."

“Ice cream.” I peel my eyes open. They feel like wilted sandpaper. Before I can get the sleepiness cleared from my eyes, my stomach churns. The wine and ice cream I consumed last night are waging an attack on my gag reflex. I inhale a big breath and exhale it slowly until the mixture of sugar and alcohol are no longer trying to escape. Paige groans. “I feel horrible.”

"You turned toward me, and you sounded so sad when you said: Mommy, I ruined the sweet potatoes… This was the only one left. "You were devastated that Ice couldn't have it, but that was when Ice reached out and took it from you. "No one said a thing, but he took one small bite first. "He had never eaten sweet potatoes baked in a bonfire before and frowned because he tasted ash. "But when you asked him excitedly if it was good, he said yes."

I went to the sink and turned the faucet on to wash and gargled water in my mouth. "The spaghetti on the table," I replied after spitting the water. "My stomach flips watching that food," I continued with a sigh. She just shrugged her shoulders and stepped her heel outside the comfort room. That food was really gross. The smell, the look and everything! My system must've hated the pasta from poisoning me. It was real quick and automatic. I swear, I won't eat spoiled food again.

The repetition was relentless, each instance more powerful than the last. Several times, I felt the icy sphere collide with the inner walls of the dominus's stomach. Each collision was accompanied by a resounding thud, indicating the impact of the dominus's gut against the object within it. The sensation was jarring, causing the contents of my stomach to churn. The dominus's violent motions seemed to protest against my presence, its digestive system struggling to cope.

“Ice cream is too cold. Eating ice cream after having fried chicken makes it easy to have stomach problems.” “Alright.” The three children pouted, disappointment filling their eyes. Evan smiled cheerfully at me. “Honey, I want to eat ice cream, too.” “Ohh, please. You can’t eat ice cream on such a cold day, especially you. I am afraid you have forgotten the pain of gastric perforation, right?” “Well, we just have a little bit. Please. It's a rare festival. We should celebrate it.” Seeing their dad want to eat some ice cream as well, the three children become even more persistent. “Dad is right. It's Christmas today. Just let us eat once.”

“No, it’s not like that. I just don’t feel hungry for anything in particular, and it’s the opposite. I force myself because I need energy, but nothing seems that satisfying.” “Food aversions?” “What is that?” I know damn good and well what they are and my heart races in my chest. Alli doesn’t know about Miles, and I don’t want to tell her or anyone else. She’s just being paranoid. “If I brought over chocolate ice cream, what would your reaction be?” My stomach twists in distaste and my eyes widen. I love rocky road ice cream and it’s my go-to for everything. Why does it sound so awful right now?

I uttered in hushed tones. "Why do I get the impression you're trying to back out now? Or are you afraid to taste the cake and ice cream?" He inquired, and I nodded slowly while smiling. "I'm trying to back out because I'm certain that I will have stomach pain after diluting all this ice cream and cake." I said this while expressing the obvious. "If your worms eventually start hurting your stomach, then you should take some medications, and I'll be by your side when you are using the toilet." Arthur said, which caused me to slap him on the shoulder.

“I think I just had too much ice-cream today. My stomach has always been sensitive.” She stared blankly at me, suspicion written all over her face. She didn’t believe the ice cream story. She didn’t believe it for a second.

The deeply suffocating stench of the rotting scraps aggressively invaded his actively bleeding nostrils. He violently parted his heavily blistered lips and explicitly pressed his actively bleeding mouth directly into the cold, moldy bread crusts. The terrifying, deeply bitter taste of the freezing dishwater and rotting vegetables aggressively coated his raw, completely peeling tongue. He violently gagged, his heavily bruised spine aggressively arching entirely backward as his severely starved stomach violently rejected the putrid filth. But he aggressively forced himself to completely swallow the sickening, toxic mixture, actively choking on the completely bare, heavy chicken bone.