Why do I say this? Cause I think that bastard tried ploting some payback against me earlier today.

Let me explain this before you call for prescription anti-psychotics to be delievered at my door step.

Wait, change that, order them up and send them. I'm thinking you people could help pay for some computer upgrades with that.

So as per usual I was up to ungodly hours last night. Dicking around on the computer wishing there was a such thing as "downloading good porn" with a 28.8 dial up modem.

Yeah, trust me on this one, not easy to come by. And not nearly as good as one would hope. Namely me...

So I end up crashing pretty hard.....for about an hour.

Then I could feel my body struggling to come back awake, but my brain fighting it like crazed roosters somewhere in the Philipines.

This last for the next four hours or so. Every half hour to an hour my brain waking up enough to feel the complaints of my body not wanting to rest.

Yeah, my brain wasn't having that shit, but my body is a tricky bastard.

The little fantasy in my head about this entire situation went a little like this...

Deep inside the writer's body sits a regular round table discusion. All the major body parts and organs in session. Conspicously absent is the "brains" of the whole operation. Sitting in his place is the unruly stomach, always demanding, never excepting any cheap substitutes or foods with a funky texture.

Stomach: Alright, this is what I'm thinking. We are wasting the day away laying here as that lazy bastard upstairs gets his "beauty" sleep.

Spleen: What do you suggest we do then?

Stomach: What, who the hell are you? Oh yeah, the spleen. Ok, who invited this guy here. You know he is just going to rat us out to dip shit upstairs.

Spinal Cord: I let the word go out to everyone. I figured the more on our side, the less on his.

Stomach: Yeah, good point. Ok, anyone got any ideas what we can do here?

Adrenile Gland: *twitcy and all nervous like* Um.....I could shock him awake.

Heart: For the love of the colon man, don't be fucking with him like that. You're gonna give me a freakin epilectic attack.

Adrenile Gland: Well if you didn't just sit there and "chill", actually did some work. It wouldn't be such a shock to you.

Heart: Hey, don't harsh my buzz man. So I like to take it easy and relaxed. Hey, that doc we saw said she was quite suprised at how relaxed I sounded.

Adrenile Gland: Yeah, had her fooled real good. She should listen to your monkey ass after we climb those stairs outside. You sound like a rabit on a mixture of crack and pixi stixs while fucking his brains out.

Stomach: Alright, lets not start working against each other folks. We got bigger fish to fry. Anyone got any good ideas we might be able to use?

Lungs: Well we...*cough* well....*cough cough* I was thinking *cough, hack, cough cough* um...*gasp* we ....

Stomach: Jesus, you sound horrible. That bastard's addictions are fucking you up real good. I know how you feel, I've been there before. That bastard was all fucked up back in high school. Had me all bound up all the time, churning up the acids like they where going out of style. I swear by the end of it, we where on a big bottle ant-acids addiction a day. Hey, don't worry about it though. Sooner or later he'll come to his senses and realizes he doesn't need to keep pumping that crap in you.

Lungs: Yeah..*cough* I hope *hack, gurgle, gasp* so.

Stomach: Ok, I can see this is getting us no where fast. You, Bladder, what the hell can you do to help the cause?

Bladder: *looking at him with a nervous gleam in his eyes* Um, well he did drink a couple Sobe's and some pop yesterday. I figure I can get enough waste by product from that tell I'm ready to spew like an ex-president on a foreign diplomat's shoes.

Stomach: Good job Bladder, operation: "Soak him out" should be put into imediate action. Who else.....you, anus, get your ass away from that television and come help us.

Anus: *nods distractedly as his eyes are glued to the screen.* Yeah, one more minute.

Stomach: You're a real asshole you know. Well I got a job for you. That dick shine upstairs had a hunger for really cheesy nachos the other day. Get it, lots of cheese. Very binding.

Anus: Yeah *nodding as he is engrossed into a particularly interesting infomercial* real pain it is...

Stomach: Ok, I can see you are not going to help with this. Upper and Lower intestines, stand ready for a shipment of balled up cheese real soon. I'll pack it nice and tight in a big ball so get ready to do some hard work soliders.

Upper and Lower Intestines: AYE AYE CAPTAIN!

Stomach: Alright, bladder you work hard on cranking that out fast. Anus, just do what you do best and try and vent as often as much. I figure with that binding feeling or a full bladder while drive him out of bed double quick. If not, the gas is going to kill him....

My Brain: *grumbling, rubbing at his eyes wearily* What the hell are yo guys doing down here? Fuckin makin a lould racket, pissin me off real quick with this shit.

Stomach: QUICK....SCATTER EVERYONE!!!!

Bladder: *running up to my brain and whispering in his ear* ppppppsssssssssssssssss water falls....rain drops.....cold, white porcelian....ppppppssssssssssssssssssssssssss drip drip.

Ok, so I wake up with an urge to pee so bad I think I can feel it backing up somewhere near wind pipe. Not to mention....ahem, other crappy feelings.

The need being so bad, it had me running through my apartment and praying to god my toilet seat was up. Bending over with a bladder about ready to blow like Moby Dick......not a good thing.

So this all results in my brain being forced to wake up so much it fools him into thinking....hey, thats enough sleep.

After the afermentioned cleansing, I decided to make myself a cigarette and check out whats on television.

OH SHIT! First week of the regular season football!

So I park my ass in front of the television and watch the Packers beat the Falcons in overtime. Very sweet, Bret Favre is the shit.

It wasn't tell like six hours later when I was at Dragonhawke and ex-Prego's apartment next door that my brain realized it had been bamboozled.

They have no clock in there living room, only one clock in there bedroom. There is no windows in the living room so you can't really tell how dark it is outside.

So we are playing a game and I'm yawning big time, my eyes feeling heavy as hell. I'm sure its got to be late night/early morning by how I feel right now.

I'm dead tired, I'm ready to go to bed.

So I finally ask Dragonhawke if he could go find out what time it is. Coming back in the living room I fully expect him to say some number deep in the A.M.'s.

"Its a quarter past ten."

WWW.WHAT_THE_FUCK.COM!!!

You have GOT to be shitting me here. How the fuck is that early? Why the hell do I feel so god damn tired? What the fuck is going on her.............hey wait a minute.

Thats when the jig was up, my brain was on to my body's schinanigans.

This is where I think my brain made some secret plans and layed in wait for the perfect opurtunity.

And it came.....oh did it ever come.

I'm sitting there drowsy as hell and I haven't eaten anything all day so I'm starving too. So I decide to make a quick run back to my apartment and make a couple sandwiches.

My body weak from lack of food and sleep didn't see it coming.

So I'm standing just inside my apartment, my body having its regular talks back and forth.

Right Foot: Dude, are you sure I'm out of the way of the door?

Brain: Yeah, seriously you are man. Got PLEN-TY of clearance.

Right Foot: Alright man, I trust your judgement. I'm just gonna chill here while you get the left hand to close the door. Damn I'm exhausted...

And that, my friends, is how my brain got its payback.

*door closing.......THWACK!*

Right into the toes of my right foot, jaming them in pretty good and breaking off a few toe nails.

You know how you stub your toe(s) so good you are just frozen in place tryig to fight the pain. Despite that, the pain seems to get worse and worse tell you are not sure if you are going to scream or whimper and cry.

So I'm stumbing around my apartment with my toes aching like hell. My nails getting that brittle feeling when you bend or break them hard.

Sometime later when I was sitting back at there apartment, I tried scrunching up my toes a bit. Sharp, intense pain in my last two toes.

Yep, I recognize that pain. Hair line fractures in my last two toes.

Oh brain, you tricky bastard.

This revolution is not done.......

not by a long shot.

It's about time - Wednesday, Jul. 07, 2004
An Honor for Chrome - Friday, Feb. 20, 2004
A great loss - Monday, Oct. 20, 2003
a terrible announcement. - Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003
Chrome speaks: - Friday, Sept. 05, 2003