Mutiny on the Cerebral Cortex
Welcome to my world, oh sacred one. You're the VIP here. Let me sing, dance and tell stories. Sit back in your seat and relax. This is what I'm good at, the best in the world, some people say. Sure they're all in my head but who isn't? When you really bubble down to the nitty gritty, the whole world fits into about three pounds of purple-grey tissue.
I see the multiverse out of two little eyes, sniff it out of two little nostrils. I create reality with five little senses. Pff. Who knows how many there are? I can see in UV. I'm a chemoreceptor. I'm a measuring stick so precise your soul can fit onto my palm. See it rotating and spinning in place. Ooh. Aah. Isn't it beautiful? Squish. Splat. Like a mosquito/rat/spider biting the soft bit at the base of your thumb.
I'm a tapeworm, friend, cramping your style. I swim through your fluid all the way to your bridge. There, you sit in your big captain's seat. Start to rise. Slap the laser on your hip but – ZAPP – I get there first and you slam back down in your chair: your throne spattered with blood.
You cough. A few drips drop off your chin and stain your clean captain's breast. No. Not like this. Adrenaline dumps and you feel nothing but fury and rage. Who do you think you are? You're you. No one stands in your way. Stand up. Up. There I am, an easy target, bent over the rotating golden cube on the floor. 'Hey, asshole,' you say. I freeze on the spot with my head and hand cocked. My gun is strapped to my hip. You're walking me down, then almost trip on the stair. For a second, your gun muzzle waivers and I'm on you, knocking your gun to the floor and grabbing your throat with both hands. You gurgle and we fall to the floor and I try to hold on but you lift your knees and kick me over and we roll in front of the big window. Outside of the spaceship, outer space floats by. The stars twinkle with joy. Or maybe they're totally unconcerned by the fight to the death that's playing out before them. To you and me, though, it's pretty intense. Who will survive this mess and who won't. I know I won't go down without a – ZAPP.