Mister Rogers tiles BLANKET for a Triple Word Score, then rests his hands on his knees and smiles. Center stage, the game board is agleam with letters. The audience applauds. Stage right, atop a stubby Doric column, an amygdala drifts jellyfish-like in the pale translucent liquid of its jar. The twin organ resembles two melting gumdrops under the glare of studio light. The judge bounces its play, ASSFACE. If only it could get a swimming start, Amygdala thinks, slosh itself over the rim, vault across the board to that green button-down cardigan. If only it could climb the knitted field to the neck, follow the artery’s pulse to the ear.