Attention, Internal Organs;
It has come to my attention that you little slimy bastards have decided to start acting up. My pancreas, Chuckweasel’s lungs (he’s wheezy, not Weezie, which would be awkward for poor dead Sherman Helmsley, or even Young Jeezy, which would be awkward for everyone), and as always, Dear Sweet Mama’s heart. Now The Concubine, Holly, and Jen seem to be suffering from their own insurrections, and let me tell you:
Lemme break it down for ya — if you kill US, where exactly do you think you’re gonna go? I don’t know about everybody else, but I know I’M not even an organ donor, so it ain’t like you can roll the dice for a better body — I’m all you got. And I know we both watched waaaaay too much Deep Space Nine, but you do know that was a SHOW, right? This is not some kind of Curzan Dax/Jadzia Dax situation here — there is no planet breeding fine-ass bitches for you to live in if you kill me! Again, I’M ALL YOU GOT.
For instance, pancreas? I know you’ve been being relatively good lately and letting me eat… I dunno… FOOD every once in awhile… but you and I BOTH know you got a little uppity when I had the cough last week. THAT DOESN’T CONCERN YOU, PANCREAS!
So, to sum up — you are not a symbiont, you’re a parasite. For the most part, we can either live without you or replace you AND WE’D STILL BE HERE. You, however, would be New Jersey landfill in a New York minute.