Head and Neck

Head and neck, like bubbles and squeak, box and box cutter, go together like a hoarse throat in carriage. Head and Neck, the comedy team, like Lewis and Martin, the Buddy movie, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Thelma and Louise.

Where would head be without neck? Rolling around on the floor, Head would be laughing, having literally laughed one’s head off. He hears a voice whispering sweet nothings like “he’s got a good head on his shoulders…shame about the missing neck.”

Imagine Neck without Head? The Headless Man stands out in the lineup, but disappears in a crowd. Now where did that headless guy go? Neck gives and gives. Neck is such a strong supporter. Neck doesn’t talk much. Well, Neck doesn’t talk at all, not having benefit of a central orifice, Neck has a voice, but is inarticulate on his own. Neck without Head seems permanently lost, not seeing where to go, not hearing the dog bark before he accidentally steps on her tail. YELP!!!

Lump has been dreaming. He is feeling a bit unwanted these days. He senses he may not be around in the months to come, his future is uncertain, what with all the plans for his unceremonious removal, his eviction from Neck Central. Lump murmurs to his Cousin Cancer in the throat, our days may be numbered. I sense this guy wants to fuck us good. He is even wearing the bracelet now, Fuck Cancer, Embrace Life. He put his wedding ring back on. Lump fears he may go nuclear. Lump radiates a solidity, but fears melting in a radioactive rain.

Cousin Cancer is a tricky one. He arrived without notice, coming in from the rain, the unwelcome Lodger. Sometimes Cousin Cancer is caught gagging, laughing like a frog in your throat, croaking out his demands to the Command Centre. I have something going for me that you cannot imagine. Cousin Cancer has dreams of his own, land spreading out so far and wide, like the country mouse who scurries under the eaves, to the Rich Relative who has deep pockets in his palatial Tonsil. Cousin Cancer is setting up base camp at the foot of Tongue, a rollercoaster if there ever was one. Tongue would be a ride and a half. Cousin Cancer is in this for the long game. He is content to hide for years- if that is what it takes, his residence in Throat, unwelcome, shunned, and choking out the words, “ Cat’s got your tongue?”

Cousin Cancer hears the rain outside, smells tears that can be called in for reinforcements, imagines conquest with relative armies of rebel cells. Cousin Cancer is safely ensconced in nearby Throat. No one wants to be alone.

Lump is feeling lonely in this flurry of plans unfurling. Poor unwanted Lump grafts himself on to the strong man in this freak show, Neck Muscle. Lump sees safety in numbers. His survival is dependent on bringing together a party of friends and family. He has heard Friends and Family have better rates, an unspoken Friends and Family rate, which sounds folksy, but other F words wait, holding their breath.

Words like Final. Lump gets all choked up thinking about this F word. He has heard from Cousin Cancer that Final, and his Italian relative Finale want to visit. F and F have been planning a long vacation, perhaps more of a staycation, where they can get some rest. Restless now, they pine for rest and resting place. But that seems so far off now. There is so much to do, so many plans for travel. Lump has seen the brochures. Tonsil, Tongue, Throat. Lump dreams of being more. More than a Lump. Making something of himself. Lump has expansion plans. Lump has a blueprint for his survival.

Lump can get ahead of himself. All these dreams. All these plans for travel. Lump is learning to be content in the knowledge of his craft. Content in knowing that he is not alone. Cousin Cancer is just a phone call away.

For now, Lump must wait. He is very good at waiting. He knows in his deep Lump soul that Time is on his side.