The chime sounded and the gas pump symbol lit up. 50 miles to E he thought.
Normally this thought would have scared him, made him worry. But he added and subtracted and even if he put 15$ into the tank he'd still have enough to deposit in the bank. Even with like 5$ left to spare.
He was elated. He was smiling. He felt like he could enjoy life again.
Before he felt like a knot pulled from both sides tighter and tighter.
But now he was singing with the radio, taping his steering wheel, signalling well before his streets. Waving to pedestrians and bikers, he even let a guy parallel park in front of him.
"No you go ahead, no you!".
So what if I get some fat injected. Its kind of like eating bacon. Like the greasy part, or that one stuff lard. Don't french people like that? They live forever, I can just drink some wine after.
Thats it! He smacked his hand against the steering wheel. Thats it, its easy. 100 bucks no problem.
He pulled into the gas station, and prepaid 15. Started pumping, waiting, then right when the handle clicked and lurched, he got scared.
Dr. Stephen told him specifically that once he starts he can't stop.
While he screwed the gas cap on, two clicks, he was starting to get scared.
At home he googled it.
Nothing, no mention of Dr. Stephan. No mention of this hospital. No mention of the procedure. Tt was no where legitimate. Aside from a sub
reddit
where some guy says the global food problem is easy, just move the fat from one person to another. It got two up votes and a downvote.
He shut the computer, just as Jimmy was coming down the stairs.
"Dickkkk, I thought that was you. You know what would be amazing, Dicky old pal?
One of those omlettes you always make!"
Dick obliged, but he couldn't stop thinking about that reddit post. Stirring up 6 eggs, while Jimmy diced vegetables.
