no*brainer

    "I really don't see how it could take so long to respond," she muttered as she clicked out her email program in agitation. It had been three days since she had written to them about her problem, and still no answer!
    She swiveled on her creaky chair, "well, now what?"
    "Jane, are you talking to yourself again?"
    "Ugh!" She exclaimed, "actually, no. I'm talking to the aliens in my brain. They're digging out a home for themselves and it's getting a bit painful."
    "Yeah, okay. In the meantime, I'm wasting away out here. Where the Hell's my dinner, woman?"
    Jane glared across the room at her supine husband, who peered back at her over the top of his mile-wide novel.
    "It's in the fridge, and there it's gonna stay. I'm not hungry."
    His eyebrows raised in mock indignation, "What kind of wife are you?"
    "A modern one," she retorted as she swiveled the chair to face the computer again. "Aha!"
    "What?" her husband said, "the aliens finally complete their excavations?"
    She ignored him as she opened the email that had just arrived in her Inbox and skimmed the first few lines. "Oh my GOD!"
    "What?!" he asked again, getting up and crossing the room to peer over her shoulder. "Oh! They answered?"
    "Obviously."
    "Well, it's about time; you wrote them days ago. What'd they say?"
    "They said I should go to a brain surgeon and have the aliens removed, 'cause if I let them stay in my brain I'll die in a matter of weeks."
    "You'd better make an appointment then," he replied.

//Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal that diddles but man. It will take an entire hen-coop of picked chickens to get over that.// *Edgar Allen Poe