Release of the Day: Masonna - Spectrum Ripper

Your stomach is mad at you because you decided to take a dare and eat steel nails, washers, widgets, and wingnuts in a bowl of skim milk. Don't ask me why you did - I'm not a doctor, but it was that ne'erdowell Leon (the one who sits in the back of the class and sighs out "big deal" every time someone gets a multiplication problem right) who triple-dog-does-the-backflip dared you to do it. And let's face it, you're no one's punk bitch, so you ate all of that metal.

Only problem is it's making an awful ruckus as you're walking around and even Mrs. Gertrudestein, who drives the school bus, said something about it - "shut your fucking stomach up." What Mrs. Gertrudestein doesn't understand is that when you needed to get a stomach transplant, your family couldn't afford something with an organic(ish) membrane, so they opted for the more financially friendly model that was made entirely out of copper. These steel machinery parts are rolling around your copper stomach making a hell of a lot of noise.

And then at recess, Troublemaker Tommy pushes you into a wall asking why the hell you were looking at Suzy Jenkins ("that's my girl, man!") and he's shouting and starting to rev his foot on the ground like a bull aiming for the matador. Toro! Toro! He's leaning into it, careening towards you. Head lowered. Not so elegantly sloped shoulders. A huff. A wheeze. His head plows into you and you gasp, gawk, and grunt. The impact dislodges a lingering wingnut from your esophagus while he holds you pinned there against the brick wall by the jungle gym. He yells into your navel with indistinguishable jargon.

And that's when you think that Tommy's undefined yelling, combined with the racket in your stomach, sounds exactly like that Masonna album Spectrum Ripper that you were listening to last night.