My brain went on vacation and left my pancreas in charge sometime during the week of August 26th, 1996. It was about one week into my college career and I'm afraid that my poor ol' brain had had quite enough of that learning schtuff. I'm not quite sure how I came to this realization. One day I just woke up and felt something missing. I could feel a hollow inside me, above my small intestine and to the right of my spleen. Then I noticed that my head didn't feel quite right. The balance was all wrong and it took a lot less effort to head bang.
And then it hit me.
My copy of the Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang: A-G that is. It had fallen off my bookshelf somehow and in its great suicidal leap managed to clobber me on the head. Bugger.
When I finally came around back to the land of reality I knew what had happened. This was mainly because my brain had left me a final message that had played whilst I lay unconscious on my bed.
"I'm going off to seek my cranial fortune. I won't be back. Your head is cramped, dark and full of too much useless crap. I'm going to travel the world for awhile and then settle down. Maybe get a job as a pit chief on the NASCAR circuit, get married and have some little axons and dendrites of my own. Don't try to find me. I'm not coming back.
I've left your pancreas in charge. It doesn't do much anyway, so it should be able to take on higher brain functions in addition to its other duties. Try to go easy on it while it gets adjusted to its new surroundings.
This is your brain, signing off."
I wandered out of my room and into the 4th floor lobby of the dorm. A junior Comparative Literature major was sitting on one of the couches reading a book. She stopped reading and gave me a strange look. I'd already established myself as 'the weird freshman' and I'd started to develop a bit of a crush on her which made her even more wary.
"My brain went on vacation and left my pancreas in charge," I explained to her.
She chuckled a bit and went back to reading her book. Dejected and in need of some guidance, I proceed to wander around the dorm and made my cranial conundrum known to everyone I could find.
To make things easier on my pancreas I decided the smartest thing to do would be to just start skipping some classes. I'd already taken Physics and Calculus in high school so I didn't need to pay attention to them now. Of course I wasn't exactly thinking straight, what with my pancreas firmly settled in the penthouse suite and all.
My brain had taken those classes before. My pancreas had been too busy doing other things like distributing insulin and hormones and playing TMNT on the Gameboy to pay attention in class. That and it's hard to hear when you're stuck inside someone's torso.
My pancreas is not numerically sound. I'll be the first to admit it now. But I wasn't quite so worldly then. Passing my classes was going to be a real challenge. Luckily I was up to that challenge. Or rather, my TI-85 graphing calculator was. I taught it everything it needed to know about calc and physics and theater and then it whispered those sweet nothings back into my ear during tests. Well, I just read them off its screen. Same bloody difference.
To this day I haven't seen hide nor hair of my brain. This might be due to the fact that brains have neither hide, nor hair. Or maybe it's because my brain is currently sunning itself on some secluded beach on the shores of British Columbia, rubbing brain tan lotion onto the parietal lobes of that Comparative Lit major's brain. Lucky bastard.