Those of a nervous disposition–including those who don’t want to hear about my digestive system–look away now.
In the classic ’70s Ridley Scott film Alien, Kane awakes and sits up on the edge of the bed in the Nostromo’s sickbay, seemingly none the worse for his alien face-hugging ordeal. The rest of the crew gather round him in a bubble of relief, glad that the long-tailed giant-hand-like creature had finally released its life-threatening grip and died.
A couple of hours later the crew is enjoying a final meal before returning to the cryo chambers, to be put in suspended animation while the massive ship autopilots them back to Earth. Kane is ravenous, shovelling in noodles like it’s his last few minutes of life. It is. He starts to choke and within seconds is flailing about in agony while his crewmates hold him down on the table in horror.
Well that’s what my stomach feels like this morning. In Kane’s case his spasms were caused by an alien lizard growing in his intestines, having been hatched there by the face-hugger. My own particular extraterrestrial lizard seems to have been given a Swiss Army Knife for his birthday, and he’s getting the blades out one by one and waving them about in my gut. Ouch, that felt like the corkscrew! Gaah! the scissors. Nooo, not the saw!!
If this is simply trapped wind then it’s particularly bad-tempered wind and it’s going berserk at the prison sentence it’s been given. I visit the bathroom about once every ten minutes, but come out no happier than I went in. My usual weaponry–Milk of Magnesia, WindEze, and Paracetamol are just bouncing off it and I don’t know what to try next.
If you see news reports of a sonic boom being heard in the Luanda area later today, that’ll be me. Until then, having an alien lizard with steel teeth and acid for blood bursting from my belly sounds like a welcome relief.