Pain Receptors: Youch! Hey, that hurts!
Scarlet's Brain: Every time I hear from you, it's a complaint. Is that all you do?
Receptors: Er, yeah, it's kinda my job....
Scarlet's Brain: Well stop being a baby; she's just sloughing off some skin.
Receptors: Maybe she could scrub a little harder, I don't think the bone is exposed yet! Geez, we're never coming to this spa again.
Scarlet's Brain: We're not at the spa.
Visual Cortex: Then why are we letting some lady rub stuff on us? And why is there a video camera pointing at the bed? Wait...are we drunk?!
Scarlet's Brain: No! We're doing a sleep study. The lady is a technician, and she's putting electrodes on us so they can record what the guys in Muscle Control are doing on night shift. And the camera just monitors us, I suppose. And of course to put on the internet later.
Humor Center: Heh, I guess that means no sleeping in the nude, huh?
Brain: WE DON'T SLEEP IN THE NUDE!
Subconscious: That you know of....
Visual Cortex: Is that us in the mirror? We look like something out of a science fiction movie!
Data Retrieval: Perhaps Swamp Thing? Or Tentacle Woman?
Ego: Hey!
Dream Producer: Pardon the interruption, but these electrodes...they can't monitor what we're thinking about, can they? If so, I'll just have the ladies in Memory cut together some clips and put that on a loop. It's too bad, really. I had a great the piece lined up with involving a game of Twister, that guy from "How I Met Your Mother" --
Brain: Doogie Howser?
Dream Producer: No, the other one...but that might be better! -- a wardrobe malfunction, and some repressed emotions I found in that locked box you tell us not to touch --
Brain: What??
Dream Producer: Well I was covering for one of the security guys in Neural Transmission, and I thought it might be healthy just to take a peek, and wow, you should see some of the stuff in there! Have you thought about seeing a therapist, or perhaps doing some yoga, because your shit totally needs to be centered --
Brain: Okay, okay, never mind! Just remember to tell Ruth in Vocal Control and Big Eddy in the Response Center that it's not really happening, okay? The last thing I need is to get a link to YouTube with the caption "Watch what she does in her sleep!" and a video of me set to "Kung Fu Fighting."
Waste Management Director: Um...'scuse me? We've got a situation developing. Is there any way we can unhook from this Frankenstein machine to get to the restroom?
Brain: We have to call someone to help us.
Shame Center: Call someone? We're only 27. Aren't we supposed to be able to perform this function on our own for at least another 50 years?
Brain: Settle down, she just unhooks us from the bed. We're unchaperoned for the rest of it. Ruth, we just need you for this, just speak out into the room.
(Ruth taps her conductor's wand.)
"Um...Erin? Can you unhook me?"

An hour later...
Brain: Are we asleep yet?
Logic Center: The fact that you can ask that means NO.
Waste Management: Psssst....
Brain: You again?
Waste Management: Don't blame me - talk to the guy who makes decisions about Liquid Intake and Bedtime Proximity considerations.
"Erin...?"
Erin: "Does this happen every night?"
Sarcasm Unit: Do I have to have someone help me up every time I have to pee in the night? No, that does not happen every night. Oh, and at my own house, I do actually sleep at night...think there's a connection?

The worst night's sleep I've ever gotten and a couple of weeks later....
Scarlet's Brain: What've we got there, Iris?
Visual Cortex: Medical bill. Better get an accountant in here from Data Processing right away.

Steve the Accountant: Six-hundred dollars after insurance?? For a bad night's sleep that concluded there was nothing I could do to feel more rested? If I'm paying that much for a bed, it better come with a private Jacuzzi, breakfast in bed, and a masseur at my bedside every evening.
Jaw Muscles: (Yawn)
Scarlet's Brain: Next time I'll just book a couple of nights at the Ritz.