My short stories here are always longer than 1,000 words, but they tend to be less than 3,000. That makes them round about the perfect length to enjoy with a cuppa tea and a choccy-biccy. You’re welcome.
Are you tired of the signs of aging? Are wrinkles, sagging skin, and sun spots getting you down? Is your figure not what it once was? Has your figure never been up to scratch? Do you have stubborn fat lurking around your middle? Is your hair turning grey and losing volume? Do you hate looking in the mirror?
Age Reversal Laboratories has the solution: DNA Body Rejuvenation Therapy™.
This all-new cosmetic procedure is perfect for individuals who desire a full body makeover with a single, simple procedure. We can turn back the years in a matter of months. You’ll look younger and feel more confident than ever before. It all begins with your DNA.
What is DNA Body Rejuvenation Therapy™?
You’ve all heard of Dolly the Sheep, right? Well, our technology is the very same as that used to create the famous Dolly, only more advanced, more reliable, and more versatile.
Here’s how it works:
First, you’ll have a consultation with one of expert physicians to discuss the age-related issues you’re dealing with. Then, you’ll talk results. Let us know exactly how you’d like to look, and we’ll make your dreams come true. Stronger cheekbones, perkier buttocks, glossier hair — whatever your vision of your perfect self, we can make it a reality.
Now comes the exciting part.
When your new body has reached maturity, it is humanely slaughtered and prepared for transplant.* The surgery is incredibly simple; we just move your brain from your old body right into your new one…
The monster leers at me with dull, sunken eyes, its mouth agape and spittle smeared across its chin.
Its grey skin is plagued with more yellowing warts than unusual. Its long hair is lanker, greasier, and more dishevelled. I’m sure its hooked nose is more crooked than I’ve ever seen it before.
It’s the last thing I want to look at first thing in a morning, but it can’t be avoided. It took up residence in my bedroom years ago; it’s almost part of the furniture.
I turn away, sick to my stomach, and retrieve my day’s outfit from the wardrobe. Black trousers. Loose grey t-shirt. Black, fine-knit cardigan. Black ankle boots. As close as I can get to an invisibility cloak.
I run a brush through my hair and that’s that — I’m ready. I don’t bother with makeup. Couldn’t bear it.
In the bathroom, I brush my teeth while avoiding eye contact with the monster that lurks in there. It’s a little smaller than the one in the bedroom and easier to ignore if I concentrate hard enough.
There have been times when curiosity has got the better of me and I’ve snatched a glance at it. The shortest of glimpses of its repulsive flesh under the harsh bathroom spotlights — its skin pale and thin enough that I can see the blood pulsing through the veins beneath it — is enough to make me retch…
Mr and Mrs Showers cling onto each other’s hands and look up at the ceiling. They’re in the living room, directly below the bedroom of their young daughter, waiting for midnight and hoping it won’t come.
It’s a yearly ritual, this waiting malarkey. It occurs on the evening of the 31st of March, and it’s an opportunity to reflect upon past mistakes. They watch the clock and curse themselves for ever being stupid enough to name their daughter April. Continue reading “April Showers”
“I’ve had a bad week,” says Wendy, as she swirls her car keys around and around her finger. “It’s because I was stressed. Work cut my hours on Monday.”
Gasps and tsks and murmurs go up from the group.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t afford to be working less. I think I’m going to have look for a new job altogether, and I’m not looking forward to that because I’m shit at interviews. Anyway, that was just the start of it. Continue reading “Confessions”
There’s only half an hour left of the graveyard shift, and I’m flagging. It’s not exhaustion caused by excessive work, but rather exhaustion from lack of work. The graveyard shift does little to stimulate the mind, and when the mind shuts down the body goes with it.
Not a single guest has checked in during my five hours behind the desk. A couple stumbled through the door earlier – one at 1:13am and another at 1:32 – but they were simply returning to their rooms after a night on the town. Both swayed from side to side as they walked and had rosy cheeks and dumb grins. Boozing businessmen – that’s who I usually face during graveyard shifts. But that’s fine by me; they tend to greet me with a goofy smile and head straight for the lift, eager to get to the safety of their bedroom where they can close their eyes and stop the world from spinning. Continue reading “The Graveyard Shift”