My Resident Grub

Last time the world did smack my gob I'd just imbibed a witchety grub. The grub's intention was to slide from uvula to my inside. Now, normally, when bugs dropp in a human's stomach they don't grin because the belly has its fire digesting foods within its mire. The acid's name is hydrochloric a distant cousin to phosphoric. Now, as we age we get less sour as gradually we lose the power to make this acid H C L, which can destroy a turtle's shell. My acid thus is ineffective and to the grub, to be reflective, it's heaven's kitchen full of food. Hence he dove in, of splendid mood and has, since that historic day been resident in Gastric Bay.