Until I was about ten, I believed I had a small man in a bowler hat and a sweater vest living in my stomach. He had a mustache and a cane. When my stomach growled it was him, pissed off and creating a ruckus about something or other. He was the last of my funny little childhood beliefs. One day I was thinking about him, and in a moment of growing-up-suddenly, I realized that I had been believing in something silly.