What would they say?

What would they say?

     My personal computer would say “Who is this Justin Timberlake, and why do you have so many Justin documents!?  You have me stuffed full of Justin. What about my health kid? Those things you download could make me sick!”

     The telephone would say, “You used me to order a pizza! You think that was a good idea? I rang for several minutes! Do I get any pizza? You should give me some! You neglect me! Why do you not like the phone?

     Justin sighs, “I am on the doctor’s face. He has my arms and legs around his fuzzy chin. It tickles, but I cannot move. He will throw me in the bin shortly to be washed with the blankets and hospital gowns.
     It does not hurt, but the bin is dark, and moves. I would like to be another object, and I think that is possible.
     I would make a good machine. I could turn on and off. I am not going in the hamper today. I am still on the doctor’s mouth. Once he removes me, I can be something else.
     My arms and legs are free, and are dangling from the hamper top. It is good to be free. I crinkle myself thinking of something to trade with. I notice, I am much heavier now.
     I can see the operating table. A doctor is taking me into his hands, probably to clean my parts. He is attaching something to me. It vibrates. He is putting me above the table again. I am higher than before, and am making noise.
     I believe my energy is fading. I am shutting down for the day.
     
     I went to sleep. I do not know how long. A machine feeds me information. It tells me how much medicine to give the doctor’s patient. It is strange going over their mouth. I do not stay long on their face.
     I am turned off after a few minutes of the patient breathing into me. I hear the machine beep, and my world goes blank.

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