“Has that alien hand of yours calmed down yet?” she asked. Bows and butterflies covered her fiery curls as she bounced into the room.
“Uhm,” I answered glancing down at the twitching appendage. I slapped at it with my left, urging it to behave.
“What the hell are those?” She was glancing over my shoulder again.
‘Let me rephrase that, what the hell was she thinking? I was born with these babies- all natural,” she said as she rudely thrust the 36 DD mammaries in my face.
“Will you stop doing that,” I said. The alien hand flapped futilely.
“Not a fan of bounteous boobs, I take it?”
“I’m busy doing research about medical anomalies.”
“Yeah, those are two huge, floatable anomalies I’d say. How does she live with those hanging from her chest? I don’t even want to know the physical complications she has. She needs a bloody towtruck to get those from point A to B.” She was gesticulating wildly and nearly knocked a sleepy Sir Laughalot from his wheel. He merely glared at her, sighed as if the world had fallen on his shoulders and trudged forward.
“Why do women feel that they are not beautiful and need the intervention of plastic surgery and unnatural enhancements?
“Societal and peer pressure,” she said. I looked up to find that she had her intelligent face on; the horn rimmed spectacles, behind which huge, owlish eyes appeared, the haughty air and the outrageously purple tweed suit.
“How accountable are the surgeons that perform these surgeries repeatedly? She has had a load of enlargements done. Is there a point where the doctor should say hell no?”
“In my learned opinion, they should do no harm and those are weapons of personal destruction. They look like large bombs, ticking and ready to go kaboom at any moment, blanketing the world in silicone.”
“Ewww, gross,” I said imagining myself swimming through rivers of the gooey stuff.”
“Don’t worry, if you had those you would never drown. Never stand on your head though as they are bound to suffocate you.” I grinned, visually imagining death by boob suffocation.