Feuding I

Dear Brain,

Seriously.  It's 4:14 AM, we're exhausted.  We're in bed, ready to shut down, why won't you just stop?  No, I get it.  You're important to this operation, but really, who the hell needs to have thoughts about nothing jerking them into wakefulness when they're falling asleep?  This is the opposite of our goal.  It's not even relevant to anything going on.  At all.  Ever.  

What the hell is wrong with you?  Do you know how hard it is to even get this far in the sleeping process; how much we've been looking forward to it?  Do you appreciate what we're trying to tell you?  Limbs heavy, Eyes don't want to open, Brain...being a sociopath towards the rest of the team.  

You start off doing so well too, it's hard to tell if you're genuinely tweaked or just exceptionally malicious, "[...]I'll remember to do that tomorrow.  Mm, bed so soft and warm, not like...not-beds...so...night...things... ... ... ... ... ... Acorns!  They wear little berets."

What.  The.  Hell.  You need to stop.  Not okay.  And worse, it's often when you know we got to get up in a few hours.  You know this.  It's worse than the time you woke us up because you figured out the solution in a puzzle was to jump.  To jump.  You jag.

Sincerely,

Body