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I flew to DragonCon earlier this month, so I got to town relatively early on Friday. I took the Marta train from where I landed to downtown, and then I had to walk a couple of blocks to the hotel to check in. I had a minor, almost involuntary detour for some lunch. This was the dialog that I thought up while eating which I then wrote out when I got checked into the room.
I don't do creative writing very often, so I thought I'd post it here. Warning: the story has a serious potty mouth, because I think it's funnier that way.
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Somewhere in downtown Atlanta.
Craig's cerebellum: Roger, right turn, wait for the light, then cross the street. left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right...
Craig's cerebrum: Hey, cerebrum, why are you turning right? We're going south to the Sheraton to check in.
cerelbellum: Huh? I received an order to turn right and cross the street. Don't worry, I coordinated with the ears and eyes to make sure we crossed at the light.
cerebrum: What? I didn't order us to turn right! The Sheraton's south of here, we're off course. Halt immediately, reverse course, turn left.
stomach: cerebellum, belay that order. Maintain this course, turn left in about 20 steps and go through the door.
cerebellum: affirmative, twenty steps, then left. Left, right, left, right...
//a chilly silence//
cerebrum: Stomach, did you just give a navigational order? As you know, that's my job. The spinal column is allowed to issue contingency orders to the muscles in emergency situations, but you have no authorization whatever to do so. Your job is to digest food, and stay out of navigation.
stomach: Look, we just got done flying through three states. You're off thinking about VOR beacons and flying procedures and whatever the fuck it is you do for hours after we're done flying. I figured since you were contemplating and debriefing, I'd make a quick detour and get some chow to make sure we're fed and up to speed. Cerebellum, have us walk up to the counter and order something. Lots of salt and fat and stuff.
cerebrum: Hey, stomach, stop giving orders. This is mutiny! You've never done this before; this is totally out of line!
cerebellum: left, right, left, right, tuuuuuurn...
stomach: Look, cerebrum, you've got a lot to think about. You're debriefing from the flight, and only you can do that. You're also thinking about DragonCon this weekend, and what we're going to go to and where it is. I'll take care of this quick side trip.
cerebellum: Ok, the eyes tell me we're at the counter. Sorry, stomach, I can make the mouth move but I can't generate speech without the cerebrum's help, and it's not cooperating.
stomach: Do I have to do everything? Left arm, wave vaguely at the menu. Lungs, make a grunt. Ok, the dude behind the counter is making something, so we're set. Cerebellum, when he gets done, start sliding to the right, have the right arm pick up a bag of chips, and then continue to the right to where the cash register is.
cerebellum: Huh? This too complicated.
stomach: Oh for pete's sake! Cerebellum: slide right, grab bag (doesn't matter which one), slide right, stop and notify me when you get there.
cerebellum: Gotcha. right, slide, right, slide...
cerebrum: Stomach, I insist that you stop trying to run things. That's an order! The stomach can't be in charge! The cerebrum is in charge of planning, that's the way it works. I know about contingencies, and plans, and forward thinking. You're just a mass of smooth muscle!
stomach: Look, cerebrum. We've always been friends. I appreciate your way of running things even though I can't understand it. And I'm grateful for thinking to buy water at the airport to drink en route.
cerebellum: Ok, left arm, grab a bag. No, doesn't matter which one. Got it? Legs, right, slide, right, slide, right...
stomach: However, I would would like to point out that the legs, shoulders, and back have been lugging two heavy non-rolling bags through Atlanta's mass transit for almost an hour, and they're really pissed. If they don't get some glucose and electrolytes things are going to start getting ugly. You do recall that you have the worlds best rolling suitcase currently sitting in your closet at home? As a matter of fact, you have a perfectly good rolling suitcase IN THE CAR at the departure airport. And you say you're the expert planner? Why don't you just go back to taking care of whatever it is you do, pilot stuff or programming or science fiction or whatever the hell, and let me deal with the real world?
cerebrum: Shit, I hadn't thought of that. Um...Ok, point taken. Sorry I left you short-supplied. Er...anything I can do?
Ears: Um, stomach, sir, the guy at the register just said something. Sounded like "chips and a drink?".
stomach: cerebrum, thanks for being a pal. Yeah, say something witty to the guy at the counter so we can pay for this. Then I'll navigate us to a table, on-load supplies, and then we can return to base course to the hotel. Believe me, if we get fueled back up it'll be much more tolerable to wait in line, especially if we can't check into the hotel yet and we still have to carry bags.
shoulders: ...groan...
cerebrum: Ok, I'll say something witty, get the food bought, and then go back to thinking about flying procedures. You can let me know when we're at the hotel. How's that?
stomach: Ok, cerebrum, that sounds fine. Ok, I've re-enabled authorization for you to connect to the mouth and ears. Go ahead.
cerebrum: ...Ok, something witty. We're tired, DragonCon...ok, here goes. [[I would like you to sell me as much sandwich, sugar, caffine, and salt as is legally allowed to be possesed by one person in the state of Georgia.]] How was that?
Ears: The guy just asked "So you're here for the con?".
Stomach: Ok, cerebellum, just nod the head, that'll take care of it, then grab the stuff and head for that table behind us. Ok, cerebrum, thanks alot, we'll let you know when we're at the hotel and we need to talk to the desk staff.
Cerebrum: Ok, I we should have changed our flight plan rather than closing it...
Stomach: Ok, cerebrum has checked out. Cerebellum, make for the table. Let's go...