Albert Amoeba was feeling a bit out of sorts.
It wasn’t that he was hungry. He engulfed pretty much everything he encountered, and so far nothing had killed him. His vacuoles worked fine, with nary a clog.
It wasn’t that he was horny. As a one-celled organism, Albie didn’t have to deal with any of the angst of relationships with the opposite sex. For him, there was no opposite sex. It simplified life immensely.
No, he was just out of sorts. It hurt whenever he tried to move.
Damn, thought Albie. Maybe it was time to go see the pseudopodiatrist.