A Cockney Rebellion

I think my body may be angry with me. I might have finally pissed it off to the point where it's better for my individual organs to move on without me. We're holding each other back and this is a dead end relationship. We've crossed the line from complacent domestic arguments to spousal abuse and if I don't straighten up and fly right the results could be disastrous. I can imagine right now that my liver is packing its bags secretly while I'm at work, carefully leaving behind every sentimental knickknack and taking only what it needs to start a new life; stealing away in the night and leaving behind only a tangle of lonely sheets and an imprint where an organ used to be. It won't even leave a note, maybe just a final glance before it passes through the doors into a brand new life where it won't ever be made to feel small again and punishment won't be doled out in pilsner glasses. Au revoir, mon chéri.