Virus 1: What’s up?
Virus 2: Nothing.
Virus 1: Want to go fuck with Skot?
Virus 2: Yeah!
Skot’s Immune System: Hold it right there, you bastards!
Virus 1: Up yours.
Virus 2: Get lost!
Skot’s Immune System: Sorry to bother you. Go right in.
[The viruses throw a house party at which several million guests are in attendance. The viruses insist on playing “Cheeseburger in Paradise” at high volume.]
Brain: Jesus God. Jimmy Buffett attack! I must void stomach contents!
Stomach: We’ve got nothing down here but ramen noodles and whisky anyway.
Liver: Don’t even talk to me.
Viruses: HEAVEN ON EARTH WITH AN ONION SLICE!
Small bowel: They’re making me twitchy.
[The rectum does not say anything, but mewls softly in his dread.]
Esophagus: We’re all suffering, people. I’m getting gang-fucked by these lymph nodes up here. Jesus, back the fuck up!
Lymph nodes: We can’t help it! We’re just big-boned! Talk to brain!
Stomach: Brain? Yeah, he’s a help. ‘More beer and cigarettes!” That’s all that guy says.
Lungs: Great, more cigarettes. Just what me and heart need. What the hell is rectum crying about, anyway? We’re the ones who get nailed.
Rectum: Dude, do you have any idea what goes on down here?
Viruses: I’M JUST A CHEESEBURGER IN PARADISE!
Brain: Oh, this is horrible. Hands! Beer and a cigarette! Now!