Candy Flossington, a well known party-goer in the prestigious Hampton scene, was beginning to notice a distinct lack of plumpness in her 25-year-old lips. They had always been so perky, so full of life. What if she lost her position as head drunk chick in lieu of younger, stupider girls? That could never happen, not if Miss Flossington had anything to say about it.
That very day, Candy rushed over to Dr. Fitzgerald’s plastic surgery office, screaming “Emergency!” at anyone who would listen. She burst into Dr. Fitzgerald’s office, knocking over several awards and degrees on the way in. She hurriedly informed him of her situation, and his diagnosis was as follows:
“Now, Candy, you’ve probably come for a few shots of collagen.” Candy nodded apprehensively. “While collagen is a good way to plump up you’re aging lips, I’ve developed a new, more natural looking, way of doing the same thing. We are going to extract some fat cells from your buttox and implant them in you’re lips. Now, how does that sound?”
”Whatever you say, doc. Anything to enhance my already stunning appearance is A-OK with me!”
After the quick operation, Candy went off to a few parties, emphasizing her larger lips with exaggerated pouts.
“Ooh, Candy,” ooed Enrique Consualez, “you’re lips are to die for. I mean, I’d die for them.”
“Well, duh. I payed $500 for these puppies; they better look damn good!”
“What is that?” asked Enrique, pointing at Candy’s newly enlarged pair of lips. “Is that a hair?”
“What?” Candy replied. “Oh. My. God. That bastard.” And with that Candy hopped on her Special Edition Segway and motored on over to Dr. Fitzgerald’s office.
“What the $%#* were you thinking! Putting you’re own lard in MY LIPS! What are you, some kinda sicko!?”
“I just thought that if part of me were in someone as beautiful as yourself, well, that part of me would be beautiful, too,” explained the doctor.
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Candy said softly. “Unfortunately, you’ve screwed over one too many rich b*tches.” Candy pulled out her pocket-sized pistol. “Prepare to d…ance with the stars!”
At this, Mario Lopez burst through an open window and exclaimed, “Hola, mi amigos!”
“Noooooo!!!” screamed Dr. Fitzgerald. “Not another D-list celebrity! I can’t take it anymore! Candy, hand me that gun.”
“With pleasure.”
Dr. Fitzgerald held the gun to his head, quivering in his high tops. He grasped the trigger and pulled. Litres of blood splattered the entire room as curious onlookers gasped.
“I hope the janitor brought extra club soda!” joked Mario.
The crowd laughed whole heartedly as Mario said, “No, seriously, those stains ain’t neva gonna come out.”
Hmm…. Well, what this piece shows is that you are an imaginative writer with a strong voice. However, if your reader was not familiar with the episode of “Nip and Tuck” that you borrowed this idea from, and, perhaps, was also not aware of who Mario Lopez was (I know. It doesn’t sound possible, but it’s true), your piece might not always make a lot of sense. It might not have the impact that you intended. Be sure to consider your audience: (old English teachers who don’t own televisions.
20/24