"I'm so sick of working under this asshole. Every day dealing with the same freaking crap left over from the day before. Why can we never seem to catch up on this work load? The stress is too much! I can't keep it together."

"You have to keep it together, Tony. We're a rectum. That's literally our one job."

"You know back in the mitosis days, I thought I'd be somebody. I remember when we first formed the cavity, thinking this is it, we're making a mouth. Then the freaking stem cell committee tells us we're at the opposite end of the chute and it's been nothing but chaos since."

"Life's what you make of it, Tony."

"Wouldn't you have liked to know? Did they ask you before they gave the taste buds to the other guys?"

"Be very grateful they didn't give us taste buds."

"I'm just saying. Of all the jobs out there in the whole wide organism, why the rectum?"

"It does no good dwelling on what could have been, my friend. Now stop talking shit and start talking some shit, alright?"

"Where do I put all this sugar, boss?"

"Just with the regular shipment, right there in the blood intake."

"No problem."

"Hey, wait a minute. What's with all the extra hydrogen bonds going on there?"

"Ain't that normal?"

"No, that's not normal! Is that alcohol?"

"Could be."

"What!?"

"Maybe."

"MAYBE?"

"Probably."

"Where the hell did we pick up alcohol? We're just a kid!"

"I don't know. Must've come in on the same delivery as the nicotine we picked up earlier."

"You didn't!"

"We didn't the first time. Sent it back up with a load of stomach acid. But by the third try we had to let it through."

"What is this organism coming to?"

"Should I still unload the rest of this-"

"Scuse me, coming through. Hey there fellas. Where should I unload all this sugar?"

"Are you kidding me! Can't you see all the hydrogen hanging off that stuff?"

"Pardon me everybody, just got in with this load of sugar. Hey where should I drop this off-"

"Gang way everybody. Got some fresh sugar here to unload."

"No! No. Everybody back. Turn around right now and take it all back up where it came from. I don't care where the kid is, or who he's trying to impress with this. We're not doing this right now."

"Hello friends! Does anyone need some sugar?"

"Ah damn. I got a chunk of dirt stuck in my pore again."

"Just flush it out with some more oil."

"I'm trying, but it's just settling in deeper."

"Well get it out of there, quick!"

"It's too deep! I can't push it out!"

"Oh no! Ohh God, what if it's an infection?"

"You think it's gonna make us sick?"

"Just nuke the thing. Better safe than sorry."

"Alright. I'll just drown it in pus and let the immune system handle it."

"Hey, that's what they're here for."

"Yes! Good morning beautiful world! I've finally made it to the surface. Hello sky! Hello sun . . . oof, hello sunlight."

"First day?"

"Oh yes. I'm so excited! I've always wanted to be a part of the waterproofing layer."

"Ha! You're a funny kid."

"What?"

"Waterproofing. Haha! I haven't heard that one in ages."

"Are we not doing that up here anymore?"

"Oh sure, once in a blue moon when the kid will take a shower. But lately our role has been redefined as . . . cosmetic, you could say."

"Cosmetic how? And what's going on with this heat? Why are we out here in the direct sunlight without any sunscreen?"

"Oh you sweet summer child."

"It feels like burning. God this is really starting to hurt!"

"Take a look at my face kid. This is the face of a perfect, shriveled, crusty tan."

"Ouch! Good God, why can't we just move over to that shady tree? Someone has to put in an emergency reflex order to the legs! Jesus Christ. This is torture!"

"Beauty ain't easy."

"Ah! Aaaaaah! It burns!"

"Hey Steve, you ever think about what it's like at the other end of the chute?"

"Hmm . . . Nope. Can't imagine."

"Me neither . . . Hey pass the butter."

It took me a couple of days and copious amounts of alcohol, but eventually I learnt to ignore them and their pestering requests and go about my day relatively undisturbed. I hadn't noticed this before, but if you or any of your friends are recovering alcoholics, you probably know that a slight stupor doesn't inhibit the boring routine of a desk job too much. I was actually doing quite alright.

Until there came a voice I couldn't ignore.

Whatcha reading there, big guy?

She was a standard nerve cell, calling from behind my oesophagus. At first I thought she was just trying to stand out to get my attention, but none of her neighbours had any complaints to make.

I know you're holding a novel. But God is a cruel one, he didn't connect me to the eyes. Won't you please just translate?

I got back to my Highsmith mystery and tried to shut her out. Conversations were a strict taboo. The two skin cells I'd tried to talk to, right at the beginning, hadn't stopped pestering me until I finally scraped them off.

Jesus, big guy, you think I can't feel your rising heart rate? Just gimme a little slice of those high-octane chases. You have no idea how boring the life of a nerve cell can be. I'm just a simple girl, with a simple love for mysteries.

"How do you even know about mystery novels and high-octane chases?", I uttered before I could stop myself. "You're a goddamn cell."

A good journalist never reveals her sources.

Well, now that the silence was broken, I might as well continue. At least she had a sense of humour.

She was alright, actually. I read to her a bunch over the next couple of days. Had a few vacation days left over, sometimes you just need a comfortable night in with your nerve cell. She guessed the ending of the second Ripley novel before I did. Smart little thing.

Anyway, we hit it off. Only issue is she's stuck there, right behind my oesophagus. Makes conversations difficult, and she's uncomfortable if I swallow or breathe too quickly. So tonight, she asked me to free her.

You see, if she could just be out here, in the real world, we could be friends in real life. Maybe more. And she's waiting for me, waiting to end her suffering. Together, we could be free.

It was easy, really, just the way she'd described. The knife glid through my skin like butter. And with her help, navigating my throat was a breeze, I'd circumvented my airway and localised the oesophagus in no time. I could feel her, sitting there, shaking in anticipation. Don't worry, honey, I'm almost there. Just need to ignore the vertigo for a little bit, maybe I should've drunk more water. And is that saliva or blood, or spinal fluid? Did I dig too far? It would be easier to see if my eyes weren't screaming at me like that. Actually, most of my cells are screaming, I suppose they're just jealous. It can't be spinal fluid, or I wouldn't be able to hear your voice anymore. But you're still there, just waiting for me. Right? Right?

"Cellular Rebellion"

​

Out of nowhere, voices in my head,

Complaints and grievances, all unsaid.

From deep within my body's core,

My cells, now sapient, forevermore.

​

"Not enough iron," they do shout,

"Too much cholesterol," without a doubt.

"Rupture in blood vessel D-14,"

Their cries, a constant, never serene.

​

I try to ignore, to push them away,

But they linger, night and day.

My body, a warzone, in turmoil and strife,

As cells rebel, causing endless life.

​

But in this rebellion, I see a chance,

A lesson to be learned in advance.

To heed the cries, and take care of me,

My cells, my being, for all to see.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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