TKLVR181
Level of Lemon Feather
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2005
- Messages
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Anyone who's ever undergone PMS (AKA any female) will understand this one.
Pituitary Problems
I had had quite enough, thank you very much.
I closed my eyes and retreated into myself. It wasn’t hard; I’d done it before. But this time it wasn’t the fun, fantastical part of my brain I was traversing. No, this was the glands, specifically the pituitary and all other glands related to hormone production. It was time to have a little chat with my pms-induced grumpiness and insecurity.
I met the guard at the gate—he didn’t look happy to see me. “I don’t know if I should let you in,” he said.
I was in no mood. I glared at him and said “Would you prefer I get a glandectomy and put you out of a job and home? Or perhaps get myself killed by enraging the wrong person and killing all of YOU in the process?”
I was quickly let in.
I knew my way through my own systems. I quickly bypassed the hundreds of neurons that would take me somewhere other than my destination, leading myself right to the head Pituitary Associate.
He wasn’t happy to see me either. “Ma’am. What can I do for you?” He asked nervously.
I glared at him for a few seconds. THIS guy I could intimidate, glare down, and otherwise bully without feeling guilty. He worked for ME, after all.
“I WANT you to cool it on the adrenaline and other stress producers,, up the serration and melatonin and other relaxation enhancers, and generally help me feel a bit more STABLE! It’s hellish out there! I WANT CONTROL BACK!” I blatantly roared at him, gathering the attention of all the white blood cells scurrying around to gather these and other hormones into my blood stream.
He gave me a sidelong glance. “But ma’am…those extra hormones are for the eggs that are now being relea…”
“I’M NOT GETTING PREGNANT, OK?? Those extra fucking hormones aren’t helping build a baby, they’re gumming up MY blood stream and making ME feel totally helpless, aggressive, insecure, and otherwise NOT a fun person to be around. So CUT IT DOWN, GOT IT?”
I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall to make my point.
He apparently got the message. “DOUBLE THE OUTPUT OF SERRATONIN AND HALF THE OUTPUT OF ADRENALINE!” He hollered to his underlings.
I walked out of the pituitary gland feeling much better.
THE END
Pituitary Problems
I had had quite enough, thank you very much.
I closed my eyes and retreated into myself. It wasn’t hard; I’d done it before. But this time it wasn’t the fun, fantastical part of my brain I was traversing. No, this was the glands, specifically the pituitary and all other glands related to hormone production. It was time to have a little chat with my pms-induced grumpiness and insecurity.
I met the guard at the gate—he didn’t look happy to see me. “I don’t know if I should let you in,” he said.
I was in no mood. I glared at him and said “Would you prefer I get a glandectomy and put you out of a job and home? Or perhaps get myself killed by enraging the wrong person and killing all of YOU in the process?”
I was quickly let in.
I knew my way through my own systems. I quickly bypassed the hundreds of neurons that would take me somewhere other than my destination, leading myself right to the head Pituitary Associate.
He wasn’t happy to see me either. “Ma’am. What can I do for you?” He asked nervously.
I glared at him for a few seconds. THIS guy I could intimidate, glare down, and otherwise bully without feeling guilty. He worked for ME, after all.
“I WANT you to cool it on the adrenaline and other stress producers,, up the serration and melatonin and other relaxation enhancers, and generally help me feel a bit more STABLE! It’s hellish out there! I WANT CONTROL BACK!” I blatantly roared at him, gathering the attention of all the white blood cells scurrying around to gather these and other hormones into my blood stream.
He gave me a sidelong glance. “But ma’am…those extra hormones are for the eggs that are now being relea…”
“I’M NOT GETTING PREGNANT, OK?? Those extra fucking hormones aren’t helping build a baby, they’re gumming up MY blood stream and making ME feel totally helpless, aggressive, insecure, and otherwise NOT a fun person to be around. So CUT IT DOWN, GOT IT?”
I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall to make my point.
He apparently got the message. “DOUBLE THE OUTPUT OF SERRATONIN AND HALF THE OUTPUT OF ADRENALINE!” He hollered to his underlings.
I walked out of the pituitary gland feeling much better.
THE END
