Congratulations on Traversing the Giant's Butt!

After being swallowed by that giant you did what you usually do: wallowed in your own self-pity while decrying the circumstances of the universe that conspired to lock you in this terrible prison of a butthole to which you were confined.

Then you nutted up and started thinking about how to get out of there.  Your first instinct was to write a poorly phrased grant request that a federal agency could ignore, but you stalled out on that plan when you realized you didn’t have any paper or pens or mailboxes to send your work out through.

Next you considered constructing an elaborate verbal argument aimed at getting the giant to poop you out, but you realized about five minutes into that that the giant wouldn’t be able to hear you.  You thought about using morse code to communicate with him, then realized that you didn’t know Morse Code after erratically kicking the side of the giant’s stomach for ten minutes.

Fortunately for you, the belly of a giant is actually a relatively PH neutral environment, so you’ll be able to survive down there easily, living off partially digested food and finding your way around with the aid of a strange bioluminescent bacteria and flashlights left by previously devoured bowel-goers.  You’ll creep along the passages with trepidation, sleeplessly wandering through the inner workings of the giant with a voracity you usually reserve only for episodes of Downton Abbey on your DVR at home.

You’ll wander through those passages for a day and a half, marking your way with a pocket knife.  By the time you’ll be exhausted.  Thirst will cloud your mind and the scent of giant shit will grow overwhelming as your steps grow heavier and heavier.  But at the bottom of it all, at the edge of the world, you’ll see a glimmer of light coming through a starfish shaped orifice: the light at the end of the tunnel, the sphincter.

You’ll stagger up to it and shove your body through: first an arm.  Then your head.  Shoulders.  Like a new colt you’ll emerge from the giant’s butthole, covered in feces and bile.  You’ll emerge reeking, drenched, blissfully alive, and topple thirty feet on to your back, losing consciousness.

“Holy shit!” you’ll announce to a horse-sized mouse after you wake up.  “Where am I?”

The mouse will respond by licking your face.  You’ll name him Crispin.

Congratulations on Traversing the Giant’s Butt!