February 21 2011
FICTION, SCIENCE FICTION I was adductored by aliens last night, while watching Liver Let Die. They must have had me confused with Pelvis Presley or Charlie Spleen; I’m not sure. Nonetheless, upon examination of my spinal column, they still found me audacious because I got nerve. I got really scarred thinking they just might be some lumbar jacks; it is not humerus at all; and lucky for me, I have some altoids with me to mask the odor of these metatausals. I insisted my muscles are held together with super gluteus; it’s a no brainer, but the subject matter is so vastus to them. At one point, they hit such an unholy nerve, it would be sacral-igious to speak of. They got really sigh-atic after this, where I had no other recourse but to give them soleus and so I caudled them with my reading of Michael Crighton’s Thorasic Park, which I pulled out of my jugular trunk. It was an inguinious move; so I thought. They began to get parot-id, and Xiphoid Beeblebrox started having an hallucis-nation and going up and down in the levators; and the other one started climbing a step bladder. I have never met a metatausal before; how would I know? I mean I know I’m no Sigmoid freud, but I certainly was not expecting that. So in an attempt to quell the situation, I began singing an Evita Peroneus song. Both their eyes were in orbit. It’s so sural here! All I want to do is return to the Mississippi River deltoid and finish watching that movie with Whoopi Goldberg called the Cistern Act. I am really starting to get hungry too, and keep thinking about that chicken I seasoned with an Italian concoction comprised of parsley, sage, rosemary, thymus, and basilic. I am thinking of having a side of carrot ids with it. I certainly hope my car’s alright when I finally get back. You know; I hear they rectum in the past, where the instrumentation doesn’t work; and I don’t have any jumper cables or second car to use as an axillary either. I have absolutely no idea how long I’ve been gone now. You know; it took me all day to plant those illialacs in my garden, and I’m looking forward to watching them bloom. Maybe I should play a game of Hyoid and go seek with them then escape. I have to come up with something. Gotta say though; the ride on that A-MIG-dala saucer with the am-neon lights was way cool. I’m thinking as long as they don’t do that O-lick-ranon process on me, I should be okay. Just so happens; I’m Queen Amygdala of Naboo who can play an organ with her notochords because of her cutaneous. They don’t know I studied the Riemann Tensor at the Oponens Pollicis and can hijack that ship of theirs either; shoot that egg up with amnion. For my main act; the flying trapezius then I’ll cut off their olfactory bulbs, after serving them plantars like they do at every circus. No alien is going to mine minerals on my pros-pectoralis. Ever hear of that old black and white Hollywood vampire horror film called Nos-serratus? I’ll go spelunking in their vena cava if I have to and use my spituitary, apply the law of conservation of omentum and turn this scene into a battle with Axilla, the armed monster that attacked Tokyo. These aliens have lymp nodes. They are like sheep in your hippocampus so I know the LAMBic system will work. Like anatomical kittens, they’re gonna be cat-davers. I got it in me to be punk rock bad like Lymph biskit wearing a “Spleen there got the t-shirt.” There’s just no way I’m missing arnold Palmar on the golf channel tonight.