This week we bring back the diary entries of the expedition that travelled into my brain to discover, primarily, why I was particularly bad at updating Monday’s articles on time. They left all the way back in this article: [Anyway so I’m pretty sure it’s making us cold blooded.]
It will make much more sense if you read all the articles in order.
We managed to convince the subject to lie down to allow us to enter his ear. He protested at first but we explained that the additional altitude that would be required for even a seated entry would mean so much additional danger money that his medical insurance wouldn’t cover it. So he lied down and didn’t even complain too much when it took Wally three attempts to get the grappling hoot into his ear lobe.
We started our accent. I always try and go first in these situations because that’s the most dangerous time and I like to think it inspires confidence in my group. I get up tot the top and set up the safety system for the rest of them.
The rest of the group makes it up with little incident. I’ve been looking down at them the whole time. But I realise now that as each man has arrived up they are stood facing into the inner ear. The last one up is the only girl of the group a cute little minx called Julie. I want her desperate but I’m trying to conceal this desire with every fibre and maintain some level of professionalism.
As she proffers me her hand as she reaches the cusp I help her and try to not obviously look straight down her shirt. I swear she’s not wearing a bra. As she arrives on a sure footing I turn around and see what they’ve all been staring at. The inner ear stretches out before us giant, dark, terrifying and quite full of wax.
Each one of us knows we’re about to advance. And we automatically reach out with a torch in our right hand and an ear but in our left. Every one of us except Leftie who rather ironically, even though I shouldn’t say so myself because I came up with it, is the only one of us who is right handed.
We started off. It was hard work but we had known it would be. And we were all looking forward to the tympanic membrane. The most comfortable place to sleep in the body bar none. I know you’ll get some who say it’s the soft tissue but that’s not for me. Wally, he’s the most technology savvy of the group, he’s got an artificial membrane at home. He swears by it. And one time although he lives quite a long way from me I went down to visit him. I said I was doing some shopping locally but he knew I’d come to try out the membrane. I t was nice. I mean it was good even. But it wasn’t quite the same. All the time I was lying there it kept making me think of the real thing and how this wasn’t as good. And while in my mind I was thinking about how many more jobs I could pick up to get me back to where I was heading right now Wally was explaining just how difficult it was to water.
Soon enough we got to the final stages. We slipped as quietly as we could into the tympanic area. Once there we could talk again. Just not by the cavity. It won’t damage anything, and I know some do but I think it’s unprofessional. Quite often we’re going into the brain to deal with a mental problem anyway. Giving them voices in their head doesn’t seem like the greatest of ideas.
So we’re here. Base camp for day one. We’re all tired and I’m just writing my journal as I see one by one each lamp go off. I’m sure Julie looks over at me for a moment before she turns her lamp off. I wonder if I’ll dream about her. Right that’s it for me. Just a quick oatcake to help me sleep. And then bed.