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I subconsciously played with a rubber band on my wrist, pricking my forearm hairs. "I know this isn't what you guys want to hear at four twenty on a Friday", I started in, trying to charm these ancient office dwellers, "but I seem to be having a little pineal gland problem."
"Pineal gland?", Mr. Stanopolus said, his expression suggesting he had been brought up on a diet of unripened lemons.
"Think so", I replied quickly, trying to keep the up-beat rythym working with me.
"Are you sure?" He said, squinting at my general zone, but not really at me.
"Well, It's not a pituitary problem, and it sure as hell isn't the hypothalamus."
"How do you know?" said Ms. Mumph, from behind her copy of The Post. I hate the fucking Post.
They had experience with this, these old-ass skeptical bastards. They were tripping me up, to prevent me from ruffling their otherwise streamline daily schedules.
"Good question”, I set in, rooting my feet into the linoleum, "As it happens, my melantonin count is low and my tryptophan is all over the place. Yesterday it was at 12, today it's at 290."
"290. No. Impossible", Mr. Stano spat out sharply.
"You tell me then, I volleyed, handing him the EIP printout."
"290. Jesus. It’s at 290”, he said. “You'd have to go to ICP."
"ICP doesn't take pineals", I said confidently, having had spent half my lunch researching this very point. Panicked, Mr. Stano and Ms. Mumph sent me through to the Provost of Glands, Mr. Sugar.
"Well", Mr. Sugar said, after grazing his nose across my sheet, "You've definitely got a problem here in that region of your brain. But the level of melatonin in the blood rises and falls on a daily cycle. The peak levels obviously occur in the wee hours of the morning, so we can assume this is a lower than average count, and you had your first test during the late afternoon, so naturally, it will be lower."
"I'd really appreciate it if you would just cut through the diagnosis here and just fix the problem. I'm - I just can't think straight with this."
"I understand. I used to be in your shoes too, or something like them", he said cryptically.
"OK. You didn't here this from me”, he said. “but the truth is, the pineal gland has no known function. If you just take that rubber band you’ve been wearing on your wrist (you forgot about that, didn't you?) you’ll find the pain will subside."
"Really?"
"Really."
"And that's it?"
"That's it. That will relieve the pain."
He had the well practiced look of honesty about him, and the smiling corners of his eyes made me want to believe him. Well, having no known function to you, I thought. It’s the psycho-metaphysical link between the soul and the body, you cock pimple, Mr. Sugar. I knew he was full of horse shit. But at the time, the social pressure, the difference in our status, my lack of ability to deal with conflict- all these little things built up and caused me to shake his hand and thank him. Some people would have probably whittled him down to the real truth, but I guess I'm not of the right constitution for that.

Date Written: October 29, 2004
Author: Benny Maniacs
Average Vote: 3.625

Comments:
11/4/2004 George W. Bush (3):
11/4/2004 qualcomm: yeah! i agree with the president.
11/4/2004 Streifenbeuteldachs (5): last para was great
11/4/2004 Streifenbeuteldachs: thought it did go on a little long
11/4/2004 TheBuyer (3): yup. undercooked.
11/4/2004 Litcube (4): The truths that this author brings to light regarding casual everyday social psychology grants this short a +1.
11/4/2004 Jon Matza (5): The mundane biological details lulled me into a pleasurable stupor, and the ending was spigot. 4.5.
11/4/2004 qualcomm: the egyptian thing and the unripened lemon thing felt contrived. that really stuck in my craw.
11/4/2004 TREE (1): pedantic and weak. If it has to be this long it should go somewhere.
11/4/2004 anonymous: OK, this shit is edited. This is the director's cut. I had it like this originally, but something fucked up and my first draft got published. Guesss that's what happens when you fll off the author's list; you get bum-fucked a new one.
11/4/2004 Jon Matza: Nice job, Disney. Way to set up a site where authors first drafts get published. Well done. Maybe while you're at it you could add a feature that scrambles our words automatically. YOU #@$% LOATHSOME FRAUD!!
11/4/2004 TheBuyer: benny, I consistantly like your edits better than your originals.
11/4/2004 anonymous: I'm not Benny.
11/4/2004 Jon Matza: who are you then--nBeny?
11/4/2004 Jon Matza: sizzled to a crisp.
11/4/2004 John Slocum: He's snow. You can tell from the prodigious cock.
11/4/2004 John Slocum (4): Excellent by the way, wierd too.
11/5/2004 Mr. Pony (4): I had to read this a couple of times before it didn't piss me off. It's growing on me now, and I may eventually think it deserves a five, but remember; initially it pissed me off.
11/5/2004 John Slocum: I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong.
11/5/2004 qualcomm: about both the author and the quality
11/5/2004 The Foonch: and the cock

Signed,
The Foonch

11/5/2004 John Slocum: Up your ass, qualcomm, that's where all the boys go.
11/5/2004 qualcomm: and what if they do, john? i really don't think that's any of your business.
11/5/2004 John Slocum: except that you're hogging all the little boys. Share and share alike.