Me: I beg your pardon?
VIMH: Up here, in your memory. There's a large box labeled "Blogs I wrote in my head just as I was drifting off to sleep and then promptly forgot about." It's quite interesting.
Me: I don't like the thought of you rummaging about up there...
VIMH: Hey, you asked us for help, remember? So we're helping.
Me: By snooping?
VIMH: Precisely. It's not like we can go for stroll to clear our minds, you know? We're stuck in your head, after all. So it's only right that we get to riffle through the interesting fiddly bits you keep up in the attic.
Me: I'm not sure how wise that is, but go for it.
VIMH: Oh dear lord.
Me: ... what?
VIMH: This... this is horrible. Disgusting, even. Morgan Freeman slashfic? HAVE YOU NO SHAME?
Me: I'd like to point out in my defense that I was drunk at the time. Besides, he and Edward James Olmos make a very cute couple:
VIMH: (A chorus of disjointed voices) I... I can't deal with this right now. This is sickening. I feel hurt and betrayed. I rather liked it. Shut up, you!
Me: Aw, don't be like that... look, I can write you some nice lesbian fiction if that'd make you feel better.
VIMH: No, we think it'd be better if we just left.
<Exeunt VIMH>
Me: Huh. Apparently the Voices in my Head are a bunch of homophobic men. Who knew?
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