A Thigh for an Eye
Predator Press
[LOBO]
"Let me get this straight," says Nurse Garrison, looking up from her clipboard. "You opened your eyes in the bathtub?"
"Check," I says.
"Didn't your mother ever warn you about opening your eyes in the bathtub? Now you're permanently blind."
"Don't we still have Mr Insanity's body encased in carbonite?"
Nurse Garrison sighs. "You've already stolen one of his arms. Now you want his eyes?"
"Stolen is such an ugly word," I says. "I prefer 'harvested'."
"That's ghoulish," she says.
"How about if I trade him?" I says.
"But your eyes don't work."
"I know. I'm offering something of infinitely more value."
"Like what?"
"My cellulite. Every last precious drop of it."
"So you want me to transplant his eyes into you, and your body fat into him in exchange."
"Well, that wouldn't really be very fair. Me and this cellulite go way back. I've lived my whole life under a rigid discipline to cultivate and grow this fantastic and impact-resistant body. My fat is a symbol of my success. I'm very attached to it."
"I can see that," says Nurse Garrison.
"How's his liver?"
"He attempted suicide by overdose on Fuzzy Navels last year, remember?"
"He was very lucky we were able to save his life," I reflect.
"Was he?"
[LOBO]"Let me get this straight," says Nurse Garrison, looking up from her clipboard. "You opened your eyes in the bathtub?"
"Check," I says.
"Didn't your mother ever warn you about opening your eyes in the bathtub? Now you're permanently blind."
"Don't we still have Mr Insanity's body encased in carbonite?"
Nurse Garrison sighs. "You've already stolen one of his arms. Now you want his eyes?"
"Stolen is such an ugly word," I says. "I prefer 'harvested'."
"That's ghoulish," she says.
"How about if I trade him?" I says.
"But your eyes don't work."
"I know. I'm offering something of infinitely more value."
"Like what?"
"My cellulite. Every last precious drop of it."
"So you want me to transplant his eyes into you, and your body fat into him in exchange."
"Well, that wouldn't really be very fair. Me and this cellulite go way back. I've lived my whole life under a rigid discipline to cultivate and grow this fantastic and impact-resistant body. My fat is a symbol of my success. I'm very attached to it."
"I can see that," says Nurse Garrison.
"How's his liver?"
"He attempted suicide by overdose on Fuzzy Navels last year, remember?"
"He was very lucky we were able to save his life," I reflect.
"Was he?"
Comments
I'm going to use it at least once today..