Saturday, 28 November 2009

The morning after

Brain: Oi! You! Wake up, you colossal pillock.
Me: Wha? Oh. Ow.
Brain: Yeah, not so clever now, are we? What were you trying to do yesterday? Kill me?
Me: Christ on a bike, Brain. Stop shouting. My head hurts.
Brain: Oh, you reckon? You want to try it from where I am, matey. I mean, I'm already losing cells at a rate of knots - you seem to want to go out on the town and accelerate the process.
Me: I only went out in town for a couple of quiet pints....
Brain: Followed by quite a few noisy ones, if I'm any judge.
Me: It's all coming back to me now.
Brain: That's because I'm replaying it to you right now. You started off at the German Market. It was the wheat beer at first. Then you all decided to find a pub.
Me: Hold on a minute, Brain. It's not completely my fault. The heart wants what it wants, after all.
Heart: Look, pal, don't drag me into this. If your arteries get any furrier you'll be able to display them at a petting zoo.
Brain: See? You've gone and annoyed Heart now. I'm not surprised. At the second pub...
Me: Second pub? Oh God...
Brain: That's right. The second pub is where you decided, after another pint or two, to order some food. The chili beef nachos were an inspired idea.
Me: There were jalapenos, weren't there?
Brain: I don't know. Why don't we ask Tongue?
Tongue: Mmf mmf m mmfm mmff mmfff!
Me: What did he say?
Brain: Tongue was reminding us that you got a chili seed stuck between your teeth. He would be a bit more talkative, only he's all swollen up and stuck to the roof of Mouth.
Stomach: If I might say something at this point...
Me: Oh no...
Stomach: Despite appearances to the contrary, I am not a fermented-grain-based-beverage storage receptacle. I don't think Bladder was too happy with the whole deal, either.
Brain: Quite. And Lower Intestine has been fairly, um, vocal while you've been sleeping, too.
Nose: You're telling me.
Brain: But we're getting ahead of ourselves. It's a good job you weren't planning on doing any calculus today. Anyway, do you remember leaving the pub?
Me: Yes, we got a taxi home, where we...
Brain: Drank a pint of water and went to bed early?
Me: Um, no. I think we may have moved onto wine. And perhaps..
Brain: Yes?
Me: ...a little gin.
Brain: Hmm. Liver wanted to speak to you about that, but he's a little busy right now. So if you don't mind, I'll do the thinking. It is what I'm here for, after all.
Me: What do you want me to do?
Brain: Get yourself down to the kitchen and dig out the Nurofen, there's a good chap.
Me: OK, will do. And Brain?
Brain: Yes?
Me: Do you think this works?
Brain: What, you mean using an imagined conversation with various parts of your anatomy as an effective and creative narrative device to tell the story of what you got up to last night and the degree of crappiness you're feeling right now?
Me: Yes. It's not too far-fetched, is it?
Brain: Nah. Your readers are intelligent, witty and, let's be honest, hugely attractive people. They'll get it. And the more intelligent, witty and attractive they are, the more likely they are to comment below. Now then. Let's be getting that Nurofen.

2 comments:

antyem said...

zero commments? With that lead? Well I thought it had a certain wizard of oz meets alice in wonderland meets withnail and I charm...

City Girl said...

I wish my body was that funny. Well it *is* funny...but funny "odd" not funny "ha-ha."

Sorry to have gone AWOL from commenting. And I am NOT commenting now because you flatter your devoted readers with descriptors like witty and attractive. I am commenting now because I'm finally catching up on a month's worth of blog reading.

You, YOU, have done a fantastic job this NaBloPoMo! 28 down and only 2 to go - I think this calls for a drink!

Ah. Right. Maybe not...Perhaps this calls for weak tea and toast?

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