Chapter #7You do it by: Yote   "So you're sure about this? In a few minutes we'll be turning on the anaethetic. The next time you wake up, assuming all goes well, you will find yourself looking like, well, something vaguely like this, er, Frankenstein," you say from behind your surgical mask, holding up the collage dad has put together at home. It consists of pieces cut out of several old, faded playboy magazines glued to a piece of paper in the shape of a human, a portrait of his ideal woman. Like a Frankenstein's monster, it is composed of mostly dead people. 'Hedy Lamar's nose' is labelled one. 'Bridget Bardot's lips' says another, and 'Marilyn Monroe's thighs'. He's also written 'Helen Mirren's accent'. He really does have no idea how cosmetic surgery works.
As you lift the paper, the weak glue sends a snowstorm of paper body parts across the operating theatre.
"It's not too late to change your mind," you press. "As I explained during the consultation, while some of the procedures we will be doing today are reversible to a degree others are not. Even if you do decide to go back, I wont be able to make you exactly the person you were before."
Laid out on the operating table, dad waves away your concerns. "Carve me up into cubes, staple me back together, I don't give a damn as long as it keeps one penny out of that ice queen's hands," he barks.
"Revenge is a really bad reason to get this done. You will regret it," you assure him.
He rolls his eyes heavenward with a remark of "look, I've signed the disclaimer already" and pulls the oxygen mask from your hands, fitting it over his mouth and lying back impatiently.
With a sigh of "fine, but don't blame me" you twist the anaesthetic valve. "If you want to start counting back from 100, we can begin. Nurse Nathalie will be assisting in the operation today."
Dad's eyes flicker over to Nathan as he emerges from the gowning room then close as he slumps back, asleep. You always like to bring your nurse in just as the anaesthetic starts to kick in when you have male patients - your sissified nurse is quite the knockout and always seems to send your clients off to pleasant dreams.
Nathan minces across the operating theatre, garbed in pink scrubs. His long blonde hair has been tied neatly back and his gold hoop earrings taken out. He's even made the effort to remove his long fake fingernails. Usually he rolled in, chewing gum, still reeking of the perfume of whatever woman or "woman" he'd picked up the night before.
"You look vaguely professional today. I'm encouraged."
"Thought I'd make an effort. It is family after all," he nodded to the unconscious client. "Nervous?"
"Why would I be nervous? I've done this procedure dozens of times."
"Yeah but not on your old man before."
You look down at your dad's sleeping face and acknowledge a slight twist of the stomach. Maybe I a little jittery, you think. "We'll start from the top and work our way down," you say resolutely, confident that your nerves will evaporate once the face you grew up with, the face that raised you, is an unrecognisable mass of meat.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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