The Rebellion Against the Stomach

The Rebellion Against the Stomach
By: Author Unknown

Once a man had a dream in which his hands and feet and mouth
and brain all began to rebel against his stomach.

"You good-for-nothing sluggard!" the hands said. "We work
all day long, sawing and hammering and lifting and
carrying. By evening we're covered with blisters and
scratches, and our joints ache, and we're covered
with dirt. And meanwhile you just sit there, hogging all
the food."

"We agree!" cried the feet. "Think how sore we get, walking
back and forth all day long. And you just stuff yourself
full, you greedy pig, so that you're that much heavier to
carry about."

"That's right!" whined the mouth. "Where do you think all
that food you love comes form? I'm the one who has to chew
it all up, and as soon as I'm finished you suck it all down
for yourself. Do you call that fair?"

"And what about me?" called the brain. "Do you think it's
easy being up here, having to think about where your next
meal is going to come from? And yet I get nothing at all
for my pains."

And one by one the parts of the body joined the complaint
against the stomach, which didn't say anything at all.

"I have an idea," the brain finally announced. "Let's all
rebel against the lazy belly, and stop working for it."

"Superb idea!" all the other members and organs agreed.
"We'll teach you how important we are, you pig. Then maybe
you'll do a little work of your own."

So they all stopped working. The hands refused to do
lifting and carrying. The feet refused to walk. The mouth
promised not to chew or swallow a single bite. And the
brain swore it wouldn't come up with any more bright ideas.
At first the stomach growled a bit, as it always did when
it was hungry. But after a while it was quiet.

Then, to the dreaming man's surprise, he found he could not
walk. He could not grasp anything in his hand. He could not
even open his mouth. And he suddenly began to feel rather
ill.

The dream seemed to go on for several days. As each day
passed, the man felt worse and worse. "This rebellion had
better not last much longer," he thought to himself, "or
I'll starve."

Meanwhile, the hands and feet and mouth and brain just lay
there, getting weaker and weaker. At first they roused
themselves just enough to taunt the stomach every once in a
while, but before long they didn't even have the energy for
that.

Finally the man heart a faint voice coming from the
direction of his feet.

"It could be that we were wrong," they were saying. "We
suppose the stomach might have been working in his own way
all along."

"I was just thinking the same thing," murmured the brain.
"It's true that he's been getting all the food. But it
seems he's been sending most of it right back to us."

"We might as well admit our error," the mouth said. "The
stomach has just as much work to do as the hands and feet
and brain and teeth."

"Then let's get back to work," they cried together. And at
that the man woke up.

To his relief, he discovered his feet could walk again. His
hands could grasp, his mouth could chew, and his brain
could now think clearly. He began to feel much better.

"Well, there's a lesson for me," he thought as he filled
his stomach at breakfast. "Either we all work together, or
nothing works at all."