I had some moles removed today.
I miss them already.
Especially the hairs that grew egregiously out of them.
They were taken from me and then, against their will, put in tubes with tight fitting lids to be taken somewhere unknown.
**Test are being run.
Moles are being sliced open.
Hairs, strewn about.**
But then what?
KFC secret recipe?
I’ve had a few body parts taken; some organs, some teeth, and now some moles.
But where do these things go?
Does the doctor put my placenta in a doggie bag, double-knot it, and alley-oop it into the trash, on top of a banana peel and used paper towels?
Or maybe all my parts go into a special collection?
Perhaps it’s metal drawer with my name on it.
My drawer would have stickers on it.
Or those bejewled crystals that spell out my name.
In pink. Naturally.
Maybe they store all my pieces in a big freezer, and one day, when they get enough pieces, they can make another me.
It’s like winning the Lottery!
Can you imagine? Two of me?
But the other me wouldn’t be as cute. She’d be all awkward, and globby. She have patchy skin, mainly comprised of discarded moles and old finger nail clippings. She’d have a toothy grin with a total of 6 teeth (4 wisdom teeth and 2 incisors), and her body would be two placentas and two umbilical cords cinching everything in place.
I mean, she’d still be hot.
Just not as cute.