Every year I go on a month-long hiatus from alcohol, smoking, Facebook, caffeine and junk food. My Organs hate it.
(Scene: KC stands shirtless in front of the mirror.)
KC: I am looking pretty damn good.
EYES: I can see our ribs. Is that supposed to be good?
JUNK: Yeah, chicks like dudes who look like they're addicted to heroin.
KC: I thought you said chicks like beefy guys?
JUNK: Dumbass. They like anything with a dick. Everybody knows that.
STOMACH: Then why the FUCK did we go on a diet? I've fucking starving! I can't eat any more fucking broccoli! This has to end! I can't take it!
STOMACH: You know all those male underwear models are gay, right? We're so skinny, girls probably think we're into dudes. KC: Oh come on. We're feeling good. Look at the glisten to our skin. The lack of bags under our eyes. We can run again. That's pretty cool.
BRAIN: I hurt so bad. This is definitely what cancer feels like. I need a Red Bull and some booze. Now. This is not good at all. This is like living in a nursing home. It's so healthy it's killing me. Give me a smoke.
LUNGS: No! I feel good. Don't hurt me any more. Cigarettes are bad for you.
BRAIN: So is a knife in the Lung. I'm going to stab you if somebody doesn't light up and give me some whiskey.
KC: Absolutely not. We're changing our lifestyle for the better. We're getting rid of all that crap we've been stuffing ourselves with.
LIVER: And I think I've finally processed all the Miller High Life we drank second semester of our sophomore year of college.
STOMACH: I don't know about you, but this fucking sucks. I want some buffalo wings. I need something barbecued. I'll die if I don't get some motherfuckin' candy!
KC: Tough shit. We're doing this for at least a month.
STOMACH: I swear to God, February is the longest fucking month in the world.
EARS: Dude, everything is so fucking LOUD! Being sober is worse than being hungover.
KC: Who knows, maybe we'll quit drinking and eating meat for the rest of the year.
STOMACH AND BRAIN: No fucking way!
KC: Now now, hear me out. Alcohol is a depressant. Fried food is just plain garbage. You are what you eat. You want to be fat, drunk and stupid for the rest of your life?
STOMACH: YES!
KC: Well, I don't. Just think of how happy we feel now that we aren't drinking.
BRAIN: I feel like fucking shit! I'm so upset I can't even think of other ways to call you a homo.
KC: Yeah, but our body is doing just fine without the booze.
LIVER: I think I can actually do my other duties now. The liver is one of the most important organs–
BRAIN: Shut the fuck up! Your body feels good because you put that hippie Tiger Balm all over yourself. It's that easy.
KC: But with all the money we're saving from not drinking our bank account is looking nice.
BRAIN: Oh give me a fucking break. You work in a bar. You steal all the liquor you want or sucker freshman girls into buying you shots. It's of no monetary concern.
KC: Okay, then the time we're saving from screwing off with our friends we're spending on writing projects.
BRAIN: Keep dreaming, Shitbag. We haven't written anything worth a shit all month. You do your best work when you're so hungover you can't even jack off.
JUNK: Hey, being that shitfaced isn't any good for me. I'm popping boners all day long now.
KC: Yeah, even Junk agrees that the cleanse is working.
BRAIN: Oh really? Really? You think so? Okay, so since you're not fucking drinking, you're not confident enough or stupid enough to go home with girls that aren't really attractive, but willing to get fucked in some way or another. So Junk IS getting affected. Probably the most out of all of us.
KC: Now you're going to turn Junk against me you cheap-shot-taking fucktard!
JUNK: Wait? Brain is right. We've been Buddhist meditating and singing Koombaya so much, I haven't seen any fucking action since. This pussy shit has got to stop or I'm going to morph into a fucking vagina!
KC: Hold on, dude.
STOMACH: You know all those male underwear models are gay, right? We're so skinny, girls probably think we're into dudes. No chick has ever said, "I'm really looking for a guy who I can share a nice conversation with. And the same size of jeans." This stupid fucking diet is screwing everything up.
BRAIN: All we need is two or three-hundred drinks.
STOMACH: We deserve 37 cheeseburgers after this fucking mess.
KC: It's only day seven! We're going to be okay! It's going to get better.
STOMACH: No it's not! It's getting worse!
KC: Every doctor in the country knows you're not supposed to drink or smoke.
BRAIN: And who are the biggest alcoholics you know?
KC: Lawyers?
BRAIN: Well, they're kind of doctors. Ph.D's of law!
JUNK: Look KC, Brain and I hate each other, but this isn't working.
KC: Nope. Final decision. You guys lose. Complain all you want.
MEKANECK: <<GIZZART!>> So. Much. Tension. Need magical hemp oil in smoke form to loosen severely damaged titanium parts.
KC: Et tu, Mekaneck?
BRAIN: Now the robot reject agrees we need to smoke weed to function!
MEKANECK: Affirmative. Steam must be blown off or spontaneous <<CLIXNOX>> eruption likely.
BRAIN: Are you happy with yourself KC? We're miserable.
KC: This is ridiculous. We've been in more painful situations than this.
BRAIN: I wasn't going to say anything, but how many writers, musicians or whatever got better after they quit drinking and drugs?
STOMACH: And everybody likes Fat Elvis more than Skinny Elvis. Everybody loves fat people. I'm fucking starving! I need a snack!
KC: You're crazy and full of shit. You want to know who's sober? Ninjas. Beat that.
BRAIN: Fine. Pirates, monkeys and vikings are always shitfaced. Even the Russian cosmonaut guys drank vodka up in that little space hut thing. Beat that.
KC: Wow. Well I hadn't really thought of that.
BRAIN: It's all in moderation. We just need one forty of Colt 45 and two microwave burritos. We're desperately low on MSG and Yellow-5.
KC: Well, I guess if the Russians and pirates did it, a little wouldn't hurt…
END