Drip Drip

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Drip-Drip

I chose to have the augmentation because it seemed to be the thing to do. Unlike the fads and crazes that had happened recently this one really had sticking potential. People would still be doing it decades from now. It was dirt cheap to get the surgery done, merely the cost of a late night movie in the city or an easy meal from a fast food restaurant. But the results far outdid those mundane experiences. Imagine the most exquisite diamond cut from an ice queen’s favourite crown highlighted from behind by the first rays of Sun on a perfect morning. Or the halo of an angel cherub, doused in heaven’s crisp light. For the price of a pat of meat you could endow yourself with just such a beautiful accessory. One that everybody else would adore, and compliment you on. It just made sense to get it done.

It was a fascination of mine. The sublime tones from overt toxic yellow through shimmering white, the delightfully pungent odour and savoury flavour. I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather have done to help me fit in. Sure, friends had chosen to spend their money on the other options, and each had their own merit. But my mind was set. Nothing could say, this is who I am, quite like having my own glass bladder ornament crafted and placed into my torso for all to see and be in awe of. When it was empty it would be be a crystal clear spyglass. And when it was full, oh when it was full! It would be like a polished piece of amber, historic and radiant. Honeyed liquid sloshing around inside it. Or it would be like the elixir of life itself, glorious and sacrosanct. Yes! This fashion couldn’t possibly die out. It just made too much sense.

Of course, that’s what I thought before the crack first appeared. Just a hairline slither, weeping nicotine stained fluid like an infected sore. I had to take to sleeping on a rack above a series of buckets because the wee would dribble out constantly. I had to forsake my social life for fear of wetting other people’s furniture. Eventually I gave up drinking any liquids, hoping that I could stifle the flow of piss by drying myself out. I woke up one day to the sound of a hospital drip, drip-drop, drip-drop, and I desperately needed a wee, it almost felt like my bladder would burst.

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