PROMPT: Pretend that there is a small man/woman operating the control system of your brain. Write about your day from his/her perspective. How does he/she feel about you?

The radio turns on:

“Awwwwww yeah, thats what I like to here. Lets get this beat bangin! comin’ in from Jackson, this KBCL 107-point-5, ‘the way to start your day’ Pickin’ it up with Banger36’s new single: touch me…”

 
Oh great, the night monitors left the mouth open… there’s drool everywhere. Who’s going to clean that up? I mean, how inconsiderate are they? Can't they think about anyone besides themselves just for once? I do everything around here. EVERYTHING. And what do they do, huh? Literally all they do is sit around talking “philosophy” while playing that god awful song “touch me” over and over again. Of course, how can I expect much from a bunch of teenagers just there to make a few bucks so they can buy their pornos— or whatever teenagers buy these days. The phrase “everyone matters” plastered on all of the body’s walls tells me that administration wouldn’t be very responsive to my complaints.
    Now, I’ve known for some time, that the night crew has been using drugs. Last weekend the night crew watched “Emma in a house filled with spiders” while they tripped on acid, and I had to deal with the back lash of the body refusing to go to sleep without checking every single nook and cranny for spiders. Their irresponsibility cost me hours of my time, monotonously looking under every pillow and in every shoe. 

 
“All I want to do is stare, you look towards me and I brush your hair. I lean in close to hear your pleas, girl, don’t be like that, don’t be a tease…. you shake your head, you look at me. Baby girl, just touch me please…. touch me, touch me…”

    Okay it’s 7:20, time to turn the ears on…. dammit, did I forget my key in the loft again? I can’t go and get it, the blood vessels at this time of day will be completely grid locked. Oh… wait… false alarm, they were in my pocket. Oh thank god, I hate when I make body late for school. Then I have to explain to the script writers what happened so they can write about it and submit it too the mouth. It’s a huge pain. Okay… just one more click… and…. there we go. She’s up. Kind of. Common, common, I know it feels comfy but just please, please GET UP! Where are the legs when I need them? Okay, I guess I can just call them…. “Yeah, hello? Listen, Murph. We’ve talked about this before, at 7:20 — and I know you know what time it is—-you need to get your people moving… I don’t care if the blankets feel good….”
    Jesus, you got to be kidding me. The day has just begun, and the left wing is already causing trouble. Administration just sent down a report that the left arm has no feeling and guess who has to deal with it? Okay, I’ll just call down there and see what the problem is… “Yes, Pete? Why are your men still sleeping? My reports say you’re people are supposed to be up by five doing flex routines…. did you guys have a party last night? I thought you said the party was on friday… Don’t lie to me pete, I hear the music in the background. No, I can clearly hear it… is that touch me playing?”

“You say ‘no thanks, your not my type’… girl don’t be shy, I wont bite. The more you push me away the more I’ll try, just look at me, I’m hot. Don’t lie. Just say those words I want to hear, lets leave now my van is near… touch me, touch me.”