I went to a stomach party at a country club wedding.  The anatomy of the wedding was the thing itself; an event structured of human anatomy. We entered in the mouth room, small with white chairs in a semicircle, around a tall pink trellis in the center.  We left through a narrow tent hallway with confetti silk ribbons hanging from the roof that shook when wind hit.  I first thought I was in a human carwash, but I realized I was inside the bride’s digestion tract.  Everyone felt uncomfortable because only a groom should be inside the bride.  She was nowhere to be seen after the tongue vows.  We ate pickled onions while we waited for the dining tent to be ready. When they let us in, the pink lit tent shook and made us wonder what the bride was doing.  A woman in white came but I knew she was a decoy.   We went into another hallway to the band room where we could make movements.  I ate chocolate cake.  They offered us a bag we could fill from a table of chocolate filled vases.  Many people took these chocolates and left though the front or back exit.  I refused to be treated like shit at this wedding.  I found an open window and crawled out.  I would rather crawl out of the bride’s ear than complete her digestion.