“Hey, brain, what do you think of that little cutie walking down the street?”
“I don’t think anything about her at all, heart. I’m happily married. And so are you. Or have you forgotten?”
“Of course, I forget all the time. I’m the heart. I can’t remember nothing. You’re the brain, Mr. Smartypants. You don’t forget nothing.”
“Don’t forget anything,” the brain corrected the heart. “Your grammar really makes my blood boil.”
“And it ain’t your blood, genius,” the heart retorted. “It’s my blood, because I’m the one who pumps it.”
“Could you two keep it down up there?” the stomach bellowed. “I’m trying to digest some food here, and that hamburger ain’t gonna metabolize itself, you know.”
“You ate another hamburger?” the heart asked in exasperation. “Stomach, don’t you remember what our doctor said?”
“You’re the brain. You’re supposed to remember those things for all us.”
“Yeah, meathead,” the heart interjected. “All this is your fault.”
“That’s right, heart.”
“Thank you, stomach.”
“I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you guys. Liver, lungs, you better listen up too.”
“I know I’ve caused us to cough too much lately,” the lungs grumbled. “So get off my back.”
“And I—I wanna know who’s responsible for all that cheap gin?” the liver asked. “You’re wearing me out.”
“That’s just it, my fellow organs,” the brain began his speech. “We’re all wearing out. I don’t know if you realize it, but we’re 72 years old. Now, that’s scary old. It’s getting on up there. We need to take care of ourselves better. I’m beginning to forget things, and I’m just too tired to keep reminding everyone to do his job.”
“You’re going to replace me with a younger heart, aren’t you? That’s what this is all about. You’re going to rip me out of my home and give it to some stronger, sexier heart. After all these years of faithful service, and this is what I get.”
“There you go, pumping yourself into another fit,” the stomach muttered. “That’s why I got ulcers. You and your fits.”
“Nobody loves me anymore. That’s all that a heart lives for is love, and you all hate me.”
“Whattaya mean?” the liver exclaimed. “You’re the center of our lives! Whoever thinks of a liver? Nobody. I’m supposed to shut up and keep on working. I don’t even know what I do, but I keep on doing it so we can all live.”
“Brain, could we move this conversation elsewhere?” the lungs asked. “That guy next to us is smoking a cigar, and I’m about to break out in another coughing attack. I know that shakes everybody up.”
“Hey, this walking around feels kinda good,” the heart exclaimed.
“Watch out,” the stomach warned. “I just processed some excess gas, and it’s makin’ its way through the large intestine.”
“Thank you, stomach,” the brain said. “That’s very considerate of you. You know what I think?”
“There he goes again,” the heart moaned. “The brain is gonna tell us what to think.”
“Can it, heart,” the lungs groused. “I’ve got a cough coming on, and it’ll make you feel even worse. We don’t need that.”
“All I wanted to say was, buddies…” the brain was cracking. “We’ve been working together for a long time, and I just want you to know it’s been an honor, a real honor.”
“Now that’s something I should say,” the heart complained. “Nobody ever lets me say the good stuff.”
“Shut up, heart,” the stomach ordered. “You’re makin’ my ulcers act up.”