Saturday, June 7, 2008

The Procrastinatorium 2

When I woke up this morning, I seemed to flibble around in a weird half-conscious dream state for slightly longer than my regulation 5.9 seconds, and as I lay with my head lolloped to one side on the pillow, I fancied my cat had spent the night propped up against my cranium like some kind of novelty wig. She does that sometimes. I reached out to affirm her status as Cutesy Pet Of All Pets with a gentle stroking motion, but instead of warm fur and the purring throb of pussiness I’ve come to know and love, I discovered a soggy lump of spongy pink stuff oozing dribbly goo onto the bedsheets. Worse still, it appeared to be hooked up to my head by a bundle of veins and arteries squishing from beneath my ear.

If your brain has ever fallen out in the night, you’ll know what an irritation this is, especially if you’ve set yourself the task of rising first thing to crank it up and thrash five hundred words of dialogue out of it — or even fix breakfast.

I made it to the bathroom okay, but while I stood counting the hemispheres in the sink and checking for the serial number on my spinal cord in case I had to call someone out, my cat burst through the doorway in a flurry of squawks and feathers and I slipped and fell into the bath. Luckily, my brain’s wrinkled curvature gripped the rim of the sink like a weighted grapnel, otherwise it would have been dashed against the wall as I flew through the air. Less luckily, this meant that while I did, indeed, fall into the bath, it was only momentarily, and when I rebounded very quickly back in the direction of the sink thanks to the elastic properties of my spinal cord, I smacked my teeth against the toothbrush holder. I say teeth, but of course, my spinal cord had yanked so hard against the base of my sacrum, what I mean is, a mouthful of ribs. Moments later, my legs turned to jelly beneath me and I fainted.

It’s nearly 3pm now and the ambulance crew are still trying to squeeze the top half of my skeleton back into my body without bursting any of my vital organs. That’ll teach me for treating myself to a spaghetti Milanese last night. They can’t tell which of my legs is which and the chief paramedic has fucked off for his lunch. I’m guessing that’s probably it for the day, and though it’s been fun watching my brain squirm around in a saline tank as it ponders where to begin with my pre-programmed dialogue challenge, I’d much rather have lain in bed longer till it rolled back inside my skull of its own accord.


writtenwyrdd said...

LOL, that's funny. YOu should have invested more than a nickel and a rubber chicken in that brain.

Kiersten said...

I love this one.

The first image of you grabbing brains instead of cat...wonderful. The rest is equally so.

blogless troll said...

I hate when that happens.

ChrisEldin said...

If your brain has ever fallen out in the night

Good one!!

Robin S. said...

I fancied my cat had spent the night propped up against my cranium like some kind of novelty wig. She does that sometimes.

Love it, Whirl.

And yeah- my brain and the fallen out in the night thing. Hey. It happens!

Whirlochre said...

Thinking about it, it's lucky all our brains don't sprout legs while they're basking on our pillows — they might get up and wander around. Swap skulls and stuff.

Maybe that's what happens when you wake with a start in the night. Your brain's off to inhabit someone else, or vice versa. Grey matter touches bone and you wake, and quick as a flash, all the brains involved in that night's swap network suck themselves back to their hosts. You come to. Confused for a while. No wonder.

McKoala said...

Have you read Hospital by Toby Litt? I think you'd love it.