Now that Ken is semi-retired, we spend a lot of time together.  Especially on the cold, snowy days of winter, we enjoy setting up a puzzle in the dining room and trying to finish it before the end of the weekend.

We were sitting across from each other the other day, a newly started puzzle between us, when I heard his stomach make crazy noises.  Without skipping a beat and while placing an integral piece onto the puzzle, he said, “Wow, what’s going on with your stomach?”

“My stomach? You think that was my stomach making the derry erry erps?” I questioned.

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“It was absolutely your stomach.”

“Ken, that was your stomach.  Didn’t you feel it?  I felt it from across the table.”

“You’re crazy,” he said.  “That was not my stomach.”

“How can you not hear something that’s happening two feet down from your ears?  Okay, I’m not going to argue with you.  If you say it wasn’t your stomach, then it wasn’t your stomach; but I just want to say that my stomach growls just like any other person, but it didn’t today.”

Just then, another loud derry erry erp sounded throughout the room.  I stared at Ken waiting for him to admit that that sound was coming from his stomach, but no such luck.  “You better go get something to eat and tame that stomach,” he said.

“How about I get you something to eat,” I said just to let him know that I wasn’t going to take responsibility for the noises.  

I call those crazy stomach noises derry erry erps because once that was the exact sound that came from my stomach when I had missed lunch one day years ago.  I was at an office job at the time and the noise echoed off the walls.  I often have stomach noises, especially when I’m trying to eat less food, but that day in the dining room with Ken was all him.

Soon after that night, Ken and I attended a play that was written and directed by a good friend of mine.  We had front row seats in the charming playhouse and were enjoying the play when suddenly during a pause in the dialogue; I heard the familiar derry erry erps.  In the silenced room, the sound bounced off the walls and then shot back into the audience.  Someone in the back row giggled.  Ken and I stared at each other, believing it was the other person; but as we exited the theater at the end of the performance, I heard a woman say to her husband, “We should get something to eat.  Your stomach is growling again.”  

Her husband looked at her surprised and said, “You think that was my stomach?”

joannfrancella@aol.com