LETTERS FROM MY BODY
Dear Steve,
Your eyes have just relayed the message to me that they can currently see you standing in front of the mirror, with a pair of scissors to your neck. Are you seriously contemplating removing those stitches by yourself? As I look over your self prescribed medicinal procedures over the years, what stands out, is your poor decision to “cure” your pulled groin muscle with Icy Hot. I'm just worried about you.
Sincerely,
Your Pain Threshold
Dear Steve,
Stitches? No sweat, you can handle it. I just think of all the crap I have put you through. But, you have put a lot of shit through me. HA HA!!! That's my favorite joke, anyways, also writing to let you know I am going to be gone for a while.
See ya,
Your Kidneys
Dear Steve,
I think it's wonderful you are losing all of this weight. But, can you stop? I am literally withering away to nothing.
Fading Fast,
Your Ass
Dear Steve,
OH MY GOD!!! Thank you so much for stopping with all of that salt and sodium business. It's almost like a brand new world; everything has just really opened up for me. And the appreciation grows even stronger when I hear stories from your mothers'. I heard she salted chocolate cake the other day. She really must have it in for her's.
Thanks,
Your Arteries
STEVE!
I'm not kidding, put the scissors down. Look how bad your hands are shaking. And you don't necessarily have the best view of the area. Look, me and neck spoke, and he doesn't like it either. I mean, he does have a pair of scissors pressed shakily against him. I tell you a secret, I tried to talk nose into mustering up a sneeze, so you would be interrupted, and maybe bring a moment of clarity. But, she still feels bad for causing that bleed when you were making out with Allison Terry in 8 th grade.
Please Stop,
Your Pain Threshold
Stephen,
Hey, what's going on big guy? Not much here. Just wanted you to know I never liked Mr. Cig anyway. He was just bad news to you. But, what's the deal with Mr. Coffee, he sucks.
Later,
Mouth
Dear Steve,
So, I hear “pain threshold” is acting like we are good buddies. Well, we're not. If that bastard could be a little more tolerant when I sleep in a funny position, maybe we could be cool, but he just can't do that. So, I say take the stitches out, I have been “tied up” in that relationship for too long.
Sincerely,
Neck
P.S.-I have been waiting to use the “tied up” pun for weeks.
Hey Steve,
8 th grade! Totally forgot! Allison Terry! So sorry! Her upper lip smelled like a burnt match anyway!
Peace,
Nose
Yo Steve,
MRS DASH?!? What is that shit? I don't know where the hell you think you get off. But, if that ever comes near me again, I will ulcer up faster than you can have blood pumped out your nose. Oh, and can a brother get some action? Maybe something a lil' sweet, maybe something a lil' smooth, maybe even a lil' nutty? Can a brother get a Snickers? You know, I think it's noble of you to be healthy and stop eating all of that crap, but, stop being a pussy and get me some Chicken McNugget's. And coffee is not an acceptable counterpart to the kegger we used to enjoy every night. Damn you for ruining me and livers good time. Now all we do is sit down here and shake like crack addicts because of all the damn caffeine.
Not Happy,
Your Stomach
Dear Steve,
I think you are a nice enough guy. But, some others think you can be rude sometimes. And, I always seem to be brought up, and I'm fed up with it.
Later,
Your Asshole
Dear Steve,
I must've been passed out from a damn Folgers overdose. But don't worry, brain let me know. I just don't believe it! You went to a bar and actually ordered cranberry juice with a squeeze of lime. Aren't you Irish for crying out loud! Why don't you man up, put some hair on those balls and throw some vodka in that drink, you Irish pansy. My overwhelming passionate hatred for you grows even more intense.
I hate you,
Your Stomach
Dear Steve,
Yo, you got my back, I got yours. I heard everything that stomachs been saying to you. So, I clogged him up for a while, stopped some circulation, pushed him around, and even called him “tummy”, which he just hates.
Who's your boy now?
Arteries
Dear Steve,
I have never talked to anyone about this. But, I feel like I just serve no purpose in this world.
Sincerely,
Your Nipples
Dear Steve,
I just spoke to someone. I can't tell you who, but I agree with everything they said. It really is getting lonely whenever my gaze looks downward.
Lonely,
Your Back
Dear Big Fag,
Decaf-Tall-Non Fat-Sugar Free Vanilla-No Foam-No Whip-Soy-Mocha'? You have lost it my friend.
Disappointed,
Your Stomach
Dear Steve,
Thanks for ditching the cigarettes. But, sorry to say the damage has been done. Like they say, “Once you go black, you never go back.”
Thanks,
Your Lungs
Dear Steve,
I just don't believe it. You removed those stitches successfully all by your shaky self. I guess it wasn't too bad. Like your girlfriend always says, “Didn't feel a thing”.
Good Job,
Pain Threshold
P.S.-Stomach told me to say that last thing. |
