by Bob Jacobs
Gloria wanted longer legs. I didn’t care that she was barely five foot three. As far as I was concerned she was perfectly formed, but no, she insisted that she wanted longer legs.
She answered an online advertisement and filled in an application form. She’s usually hopeless at filling in that kind of thing – most women are – but she knew I’d disapprove, so she went ahead and filled it in without me and arranged a bank loan to pay for the operation. She kept the whole thing secret until the day she went in for surgery.
Of course I tried to stop her, but it was too late and she wouldn’t listen.
Her new legs are beautiful, they really are. They’re longer, leaner, and more shapely. So don’t get me wrong, I do like them. It’s just the way her old legs dangle without reaching the floor.
Bob Jacobs lives in the south-east of England with his wife and kids and Sony Vaio. In his spare time he likes to lie motionless on his back, whistling and staring at clouds.
The Pygmy Giant 