Here we have a mixed bag of rather short stories. The first one's almost sickly-sweet, the second one's disturbingly twisted, and the third one simply oozes cynicism. That being said, enjoy! – JH
"WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING"
In case you were wondering, yes, I have noticed something different about you lately. It was gradual at first, but suddenly it's dramatic. You haven't missed a day of work (I would remember), so I guess you haven't had any kind of procedure done. It's obvious that you've been working hard. I always found you pleasant to look at, but you weren't necessarily what most people would call attractive, per se. But all that has changed. You've changed. Now that there's less of you physically, the rest of you shines through more clearly. You walk with your head high, displaying a confidence I never knew you possessed – and that swagger becomes you. You smile all the time, and your smile is beautiful. You are beautiful. Whatever you've been doing, and whatever you're doing now, keep it up. I'm noticing. And I'm thinking things. Like, how am I going to spend the rest of my life with anyone else but you?
"IT ISN'T WORKING"
I've been trying for twenty-five minutes to kill this jerk, but it isn't working. I thought it would be a simple enough task to perform. I'd enter his office quickly, locking the door behind me, and hook my arm around his despicable throat and break his neck before he even knew I was there. It didn't happen quite like that. He saw me coming and recognized me as trouble, warding me off with a cup of hot coffee in my face. I didn't stop advancing, though my skin was burning – with rage and with coffee. Plan B was already in place. The scissors were in my back pocket, and I pulled them out, separating the blades into a "V" shape and striking out at his jugular. They were dull blades, but I thought they'd be just sharp enough to pierce his sickening skin. They weren't, and so I had to think of a Plan C on the fly. I managed to grab his emptied coffee cup in my other hand and smashed it over his head. He seemed stunned for a second, but didn't leave his feet. Before he could gather his wits again, I slammed him into the wall of his office. Seventeen times. He collapsed in a heap – as much of a heap as a skinny, six-foot-five twerp can collapse into, that is. This was my chance to finish him off. I wrapped my hands around his throat as tightly as I could manage and began strangling him. It should've worked, but the rascal inexplicably came to and started fighting me again. For a scrawny little wimp, this guy sure could fight. Plan D was – and is – destined to fail, but I've run out of options by now. I've been smashing the stapler down and stapling every square inch of his exposed skin for the past ten minutes; and while he seems extremely uncomfortable and has mostly stopped fighting back, this guy is disturbingly alive and seems content to stay that way. I knew I should've brought my chainsaw to begin with.
"YOU'RE STILL UGLY"
"What's up, Saralee?"
"Oh...just my face."
"What, did you get another facelift or something?"
"Oh, Gordy, you noticed!"
"Not really. You just pointed it out."
"Well, you would've known anyway, even if I hadn't said anything, right?"
"Don't you see any difference at all, Gordy?"
"Your eyes look swollen."
"Oh, well, that's just the aftereffects of the procedure."
"It looks like it hurts."
"It did at first, but not so much anymore. But it was worth it, don't you think?"
"Gordon Mobley, you're awfully impertinent today."
"Yeah, well, I'm constipated. What's your excuse?"
"Well, I never!"
"Wouldn't surprise me one bit, Saralee."
"Why are you being so mean to me? I just asked for your honest opinion."
"You don't want that."
"Well, of course, I do. You're my friend, aren't you?"
"If you say so."
"Well, what do you really think about my face?"
"That's a loaded question, Saralee."
"Fire away, Gordon. I can take it."
"I seriously doubt that, but here goes nothing."
"Well, remember when you asked me what I thought of your implants?"
"Yes, you said I looked very buoyant."
"Right. And remember when you asked me what I thought of your nose job?"
"Yes, Gordon. You said it didn't pass the sniff test."
"Right. And remember when you asked me what I thought when you got your lips done?"
"I remember, Gordy. You said it wasn't wise to go around kissing bees."
"Right. So now you want me to tell you what I think about your latest facelift."
"Well, Saralee, I think you're wasting tons of money fighting a losing battle. Because no matter how many times your face gets lifted, at the end of the day you're still ugly, and no amount of surgery can fix that."
"Is that what you really think, Gordy?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Remind me again why I value your opinion."
"Nice talking to you, Saralee."