Subconscious: “Psst... You awake?”
Conscious, grumbling: “ I guess I am now”
“Ya know, I was thinking........”
“No shit, maybe you should fucking be sleeping”
“ Wait, hear me out, How many great grandparents would you have if you went back say 1000 or more years?”
“Are you fucking serious?” a different subconscious silently curses Northeastern University's Engineering Dept, “that's what your thinking about?”
Then, Conscious makes a foggy mistake.
“What time is IT!?”
The Ghost of Steve Jobs smirks an evil smirk: “Grab your iphone and check”
Before anyone can stop him, Hand, like a golden retriever puppy, lurches out, and knocks over the water bottle.
“Shit!” says Conscious
Hand fumbles on nightstand still half asleep.....
Eyes: “NOOO, don't look at the , AHHHHHH...” White laser light blasts the retinas.
“What the fuck! It's 3:02 am! Put the phone down!” Conscious yells.
Hand, like a typical teen getting reprimanded, puts the phone down “What? I was just checking it for a second, you're always yelling at me”
“Shut up hand, go adjust Scrotum, he's stuck to Thigh”
Kidney chimes in sounding like he's drowning: “Excuse me, I gotta go pee”
Morning Wood resting firmly against his favorite buttocky pillow: “Not till I'm done”
“Is she sleeping?” Conscious asks, suddenly oblvious to everything else.
Ear, metaphorically rolling his eyes “You can't hear that snoring?”
“What ssssnoring?” Morning wood says, sounding like a snake offering Conscious an apple.
“Listen you two, I gotta go, like now.” says Kidney with authority.
Shoulder: “Hey I'm cold, Hand, would you grab the covers?”
Hand, who all through this has been giving a good massage, reluctantly releases the Testicle Twins and obliges.
Subconscious “Hey, What if we went back to 3000 years? Man, that's an exponential shit load of great grandparents we might need a ….
There is a pregnant silence.
Nose: “Seriously dude? Have you been eating off the racoon's truck in the Geico commercial?”
Subconscious: “ Those commercials are pretty funny! I wonder how much.....”
He's cut off by Conscious “Shut. Up.”
Kidney:”Hey, Morning Wood has left his post. Let's go”
Feet, acting like a toddler's first step, search for Slippers.
Morning wood, blocked by kidney, shouts: "Hey, if we knock over the water bottle again, maybe we can get her to stir?"
"We can't see!" feet interrupts.
Hand shoots for the iphone.
Steve Job's Ghost snickers.
As conscious heads to the bathroom with everyone in tow, he sees Coffee Pot in the glow of the night light.
She's seductively sitting on the counter like a Colombian hooker. Beckoning.
Subconscious: “Hey, where's the calculator?........”