When a Good Brain Goes Bad

There’s something wrong with our fridge.  No matter how many times I open it, none of the good stuff magically materializes.  No cake.  No ice cream.  No sister-in-law cookies.

I’m telling you, 10 calorie Jello cups just don’t cut it.

It’s not my stomach.  It’s my brain.  Here’s the conversation in front of the fridge:

Stomach: You know, I’m not really hungry…I don’t know why you’re rooting around in there.

Brain: There has to be leftover SOMETHING in here…maybe behind the… what is that called again?

Stomach: Celery.

Brain: Oh yeah.  The stringy stuff.  I hate that stuff. Hey…we have butter.  I wonder if we have any powdered sugar?

Stomach: Tell me you are NOT thinking what I think you’re thinking.

Brain: What?  How long does it take to make frosting?

Stomach: Look.  LISTEN TO ME.  I’m not hungry.  Hellloooo…who is supposed to be sending the signals to whom?

Brain: Whatever.  Hey.  I could just dip the stick of butter in the powdered sugar.  Voila.  Don’t have to waste time making the frosting.

Stomach: I am turning over.  I hope you can feel that.  Are you sure you’re not a guy?  That’s something a guy would do.

Brain: Okay.  I admit, that’s a little excessive.

Stomach: THANKyou.

Brain: Please hold…sending a signal to the calculating side…how long frosting takes.

Stomach: ORANGE.   LOOK AT THE LOVELY ORANGE IN THE BOWL. Pretty orange.  Ummmm….smell it….doesn’t that smell good?

Brain: Are you kidding?  Do you know how long those take to peel?

Stomach:  You need help.

Brain: Do you know how long it would take for me to GET help?

Stomach: Why on God’s green earth are you the commander in chief?  The gallbladder could do a better job.  Heck the LIVER could do a better job.

Brain: Well I have all the electrical signals.  So there.

Stomach: Did you really just say “neener neener” to me?  If you have all the electrical signals, then some of them are NOT firing.  Check your cells.  I AM NOT HUNGRY.

Brain: Hunger Schmunger.  Who cares?  I just feel like eating.

Stomach: No.  Actually, you DON’T.  Would you please stop unplugging the circuit to me?  If you’d just stop messing with the wiring all the time, you’d be fine.

Brain: Are you calling me neurotic?

Stomach: If the shoe fits…

Brain: You are SO going to pay for that.

Stomach: If I had eyes, I’d roll them.  You’re telling me.  Who do you think pays for it all the time?  The rest of us.  That’s who.

Gallbladder: YEAH.

Stomach & Brain: SHUT UP!

Gallbladder: But I thought you said I’d do a better job!

Stomach: I was making a point, okay?

Stomach: Shut the fridge.  NOW.  If you don’t, every organ in here is going to start giving their two cents worth.  I do NOT have the, well,  stomach for this kind of drama, and YOU will get a migraine.

Brain: FINE.

Stomach: You are such a baby.  Plug the wires back in, okay?  Or we’ll never get to sleep.

Stomach: I felt that.  You hooked up to me again, didn’t you?

Brain: Maybe.

Stomach: And do you feel like eating?

Brain: Maybe.  Maybe not.

Stomach: You don’t.  I can tell.

Hypothalamus:   If you two don’t knock it off I’m gonna connect to the primordial  lizard brain and kick both your butts.  Geeze.  Go to bed!

Copyright © 2009. The Literary Horse. All rights reserved.
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