As I stood there, still reeling from the sheer absurdity of it all, I became aware of soft murmurs coming from the far end of the room. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I noticed four men lounging around the wooden table at the center, each with a deck of cards in his hands and a drink at his elbow. They were dressed in an assortment of clothing that defied any logical time period. One wore a powdered wig and a ruffled cravat, like he had walked straight out of the 18th century. Another wore a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, despite the fact that we were clearly somewhere deep inside a dragon’s belly. The third had on a medieval suit of armor, though his visor was flipped up, revealing a bearded face that seemed remarkably relaxed for someone in full battle gear. The last man wore a three-piece suit with a bright red bow tie, looking as if he belonged at a carnival rather than a poker table.

“Well, well,” said the man in the suit, as he laid down his cards with a flourish, “look what the dragon dragged in. A fresh face!”

The others glanced up with mild interest, giving me a once-over before returning their attention to the game. They didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see someone new standing there, dripping with whatever fluid had clung to me during my journey down.

“I—uh—where am I?” I stammered, taking an uncertain step forward. “And who are you?”

The man in the powdered wig chuckled softly, flipping a card onto the table. “You’re in the stomach, obviously. Welcome to the belly of the beast, my friend,” he said, as if that explained everything. “As for us, well, we’re the unfortunate souls who got swallowed before you. But don’t let that worry you too much. It’s not so bad in here once you get used to it.”

“Not so bad?” I repeated, incredulously. “We’re inside a dragon! How is this—” I gestured wildly at the room, the pulsating walls, the card game, “—even possible?”

“Ah, there it is. That’s the spirit,” said the man in armor, grinning as he reached for his drink. “Every newcomer asks the same questions. But the real trick to surviving down here is accepting the absurdity of the situation. Once you do that, the rest is just details.”

I tried to process what they were saying, but my mind struggled to comprehend the madness around me. The room felt alive in a way that was both organic and bizarrely comfortable. The flesh of the walls pulsed in rhythm with the faint thud of the dragon’s distant heartbeat, casting strange shadows that swayed over the room like a living, breathing being. But there were bookshelves, a chandelier, a poker table—how could any of this be real?

As if reading my thoughts, the man in the Hawaiian shirt spoke up. “We call it the Stomach Social Club,” he said, raising his glass as though toasting an unseen audience. “It’s a place of refuge for the dragon’s dinner guests, if you will.”

The others chuckled, and the man in the three-piece suit gestured for me to come closer. “Sit down,” he said. “You’ve had a rough time, no doubt. Play a hand, have a drink, and we’ll explain what we know.”

Cautiously, I approached the table. The chair they offered me was upholstered in deep red velvet, incongruously luxurious for a place like this. It squished under my weight as I sat down, and I half expected it to wriggle away or grow teeth. But it held firm, and I reached for the cards they dealt me, though I had no idea what game they were playing.

---

**The Stomach Social Club: A Deeper Conversation**

As I glanced at the cards in my hand, I noticed that each was decorated not with the traditional suits of hearts, spades, clubs, or diamonds, but with bizarre symbols—spirals, moons, what appeared to be grinning faces, and tentacles. I looked up to see the others watching me, their expressions a mix of amusement and expectation.

“So, how long have you guys been here?” I asked, hesitantly placing a card on the table that showed a grinning crescent moon wrapped around a serpent.

“That’s a complicated question,” replied the man in the suit, tapping his fingers against the table thoughtfully. “Time doesn’t work quite the same way inside a dragon. For some of us, it feels like decades. For others, just a few days. It’s all a bit wibbly-wobbly, if you know what I mean.”

The man in armor took a sip from his mug, his metal gauntlet clinking against the ceramic. “And there’s more to this place than just the stomach,” he said, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “If you go deeper, there are all sorts of fascinating things. The dragon’s digestive tract is practically a labyrinth. There’s the Pit of Lost Things down in the lower intestines—great place to find artifacts from all over the world, or worlds, really. And the Bile Bath House near the pancreas, if you’re into spa treatments of a... pungent nature.”

The man in the Hawaiian shirt leaned forward conspiratorially. “And don’t forget the Gastric Gardens,” he added. “A whole ecosystem of bioluminescent flora grows down there. Some even say there’s a waterfall made of pure acid—it’s quite a sight. You could spend an eternity exploring.”

His words sent a shudder through me. “And... how exactly would you get out of there?” I asked, hoping there was some secret escape route.

“Get out?” repeated the man in the suit, as if the very notion were foreign to him. “Why would you want to leave when there’s so much to see? This dragon’s body is like a world unto itself. We have everything we need here—games, books, even a bit of entertainment when the dragon decides to swallow something interesting.” He gestured at a shelf lined with dusty volumes and odd trinkets—things that looked like they had been salvaged from various places and times. 

I shook my head, a feeling of dread settling into my gut. “You’re telling me that you’re okay with living inside a dragon forever?” I asked. “That’s insane! I want to get out of here. There *has* to be a way.”

“Ah, he’s still got some fight in him,” said the man in armor, grinning. “Good. You’re going to need it.”

The man in the powdered wig, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. His voice was low and slow, as though weighed down by centuries of lethargy. “There is a way out,” he said, his eyes flickering with an unsettling brightness. “The way you came in—through the mouth. But the only way to reach it is to climb back up the throat, and the dragon does not make it easy for those who try to leave. Besides…” He trailed off, a vague smile curling on his lips. “There are… other risks.”

“What kind of risks?” I asked, but he only shrugged.

“Who’s to say? None of us ever tried.” His smile widened, showing teeth that seemed unnaturally white against his pale face.

The man in the Hawaiian shirt leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “He’s got a point, you know. The dragon doesn’t like it when its food tries to escape. The last person who made the attempt… well, let’s just say he ended up a bit more ‘digested’ than the rest of us.”

I felt a surge of frustration. “So you’re telling me my choices are to stay here and play cards until I lose my mind, or risk getting digested trying to get out?”

The man in armor slammed his mug down on the table. “No one’s forcing you to stay,” he said. “If you’re set on escaping, then go ahead. But don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

---

**The Invitation to Go Deeper**

The man in the suit leaned forward again, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “Before you make your decision,” he said, “you might want to consider our earlier suggestion. There’s a lot more to this dragon than just its stomach, and some of us have found ways to make the most of it. There’s the Festival of the Gutters that takes place every now and then in the lower chambers, where you can meet all sorts of characters—some even stranger than us. Or you could visit the Gallbladder Gallery—it’s an art museum of sorts. The dragon has a taste for more than just flesh and bone, you see. It swallows ideas, too, and sometimes those manifest as… interesting exhibits.”

His words sounded almost tempting, like the promises of a fantastical carnival. But I couldn’t help but feel that there was something off, something disturbingly surreal about the idea of treating a dragon’s digestive system as a playground.